Teknet Trilogy Three: Teknet's Treasure
by OughtaKnowBetter
Summary: Third of a loosely woven series. Daniel translates Teknet's list. Warning: mature subject matter. Complete story.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: this is the third of three loosely woven stories. Warning: mature subject matter. Another warning: they own everything, I own nothing.

Teknet's Treasure

By OughtaKnowBetter

"Unscheduled 'Gate activation! Unscheduled 'Gate activation!" The alarm rang out over the loudspeaker that echoed through the corridors of StarGate Command. Men in helmets and fatigues, armed with P-90's, swarmed into the Gate room, setting up shields and preparing to aim at the closed iris which prevented anything from The Great Beyond from rematerializing from the wormhole and trying to boil in. Another team dragged in the heavy firepower: a laser cannon guaranteed to give the emerging being a suntan that he—or she—or it—would never forget.

They hoped.

General Hammond hustled into the control room, beating Colonel O'Neill by mere instants and a few pounds of bulk that slowed him down not one whit. "Do we have an ID code?"

"No, sir, nothing yet… Wait! Here it is! It's SG- 12, sir. Coming in hot!"

"Open the iris," Hammond ordered, grimly. He opened the channel into the Gate room proper. "On your toes, people. This is not a drill." He dialed another extension. "Medical team to the Gate room. Just in case."

Teal'c entered a moment later, his eyes bypassing the control panel in favor of the glassed in scene in front, managing to hurry without looking rushed. O'Neill knew better.

"SG-12," he said quietly in response to Teal'c's unasked question. They both knew what he meant: Daniel Jackson had gone out with that team just six short hours ago. The plan had been for Daniel to smooth things over for the next team coming in to take over diplomatic negotiations. SG-1 had made the first contact, now it was SG-12's turn to head back to set up the treaty and lay out the ground work for a long and pleasant inter-planetary relationship. All SG-12 needed Daniel for was to brief them on the culture, introduce them to the Persons of Impeccable Bearing, and get a couple of signatures on some very expensive high grade bond paper. The gold-etched pens could be left behind as souvenirs for the locals. What had gone wrong?

The answer wasn't long in coming. The iris swirled open, the blue event horizon flashing into lethal existence, and the first pair of men barreled through with a third body slung between them, dripping blood and yelling for medical assistance. A fourth emerged backward, his own P-90 still smoking from the rounds fired only moments previously, his fatigues as ripped and torn and covered with soot as the other three. Designated men surged forward, relieving the incoming team of their burden and pouring the injured man onto the waiting stretcher to be whisked off to the infirmary in a flash. O'Neill scanned the faces anxiously: it was Colonel Lassiter himself who was down for the count, his two sergeants dragging him back through the 'Gate. The second in command had the smoking gun. Where was Daniel? _Damn trouble magnet_. O'Neill could feel cold ice forming in his belly.

Carter slipped in beside the men in the room high above the 'Gate, eyes automatically going to the control panel in front of the corpsman, her knuckles whitening, reading the results from the dials. But not a word did she say. O'Neill lifted an anxious eyebrow: _any more coming through?_ A barely perceptible nod: _yes_. O'Neill's shoulders relaxed a miniscule amount.

The blue interior of the StarGate shivered once again and spit forth one last figure: Daniel Jackson. The man staggered, caught himself against the railing before another of the designated welcoming committee could grab him and pull him away from the 'Gate. They hustled the civilian down the ramp into the waiting crowd below, watching for any more to stomp out of the blue event horizon: any new arrivals would be armed and ready to kill.

"Close the iris." Hammond kept his voice calm and in control. "Major?"

"No one in transit," Carter confirmed.

"Iris closed," the corpsman reported. Unnecessary, O'Neill thought, since they could all see the heavy titanium cover twirl into place. He trailed Hammond down the steps to the 'Gate room proper, Carter and Teal'c in his wake. Not one wasted a moment.

Hammond stepped over to the ranking member of SG-12. "Major Vincent?"

Vincent wiped the soot from his face, only half aware of what he was doing, still looking around him as though more men were after him. Sweat poured off of him and the two remaining members of SG-12, sweat laced with the acrid scent of fear. "They turned on us, General! Every single damned person on that planet! They kidnapped the colonel and tortured him. We only just barely made it back to the 'Gate." He threw an angry glare toward Dr. Jackson. "Looking forward to the de-briefing, General. Looking forward to getting that damn civilian off this base before he kills someone. If he hasn't already." He threw an angry salute in the general's direction. "Permission to check on my C.O., sir, and see if he's still breathing."

Daniel Jackson turned and stumbled out of the 'Gate room.

* * *

The cold tile felt good against his back. Daniel leaned his back against the hard surface of the wall of the men's room, wondering if he had enough strength to move to the sink to rinse out his mouth. The sour taste of vomit coated his tongue, but there was the serious consideration of ending up flopped on the equally cold tile floor if he tried to get there.

He became aware of someone standing over him, a tall and looming presence. "Are you comfortable on the floor?"

That didn't sound quite right. Daniel was quite certain that he was still standing. Well, no, maybe he wasn't. There was a certain icy sensation under his backside that suggested that sometime in the intervening minutes he had slid down the wall and gone from standing upright on his feet to sitting upright on his butt. He opened his eyes. The silver-haired figure standing in front of him looked like Daniel ought to remember him. The face was blurry, but the voice was familiar. He blinked. "Jack?"

A quiet sigh. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Daniel squinted. "I never knew you had six fingers on one hand."

Another sigh, this one a little more worried. "Think maybe skipping out on the doc's special post-mission exam was a trifle hasty?"

Daniel decided that that question was best left unanswered.

"Want to tell me what happened?"

Try as he would, answers to that question weren't coming easily, either.

* * *

To his credit, Major Vincent was trying to keep his anger in check. "Yes, sir. We did the standard meet and greet. Jackson introduced us to maybe half the people there; we got through their version of shaking hands without incident."

O'Neill nodded; he remembered _that_ rite of passage, remembered being impressed how Daniel had latched onto it so quickly. Without the linguist's skills SG-1 would have ended up coming home empty-handed, or perhaps even without hands. The Theolosians were not a particularly peaceful people under the best of circumstances, and meeting a new people from another world didn't qualify as best circumstances. O'Neill still remembered the Most Important Warrior sizing him up, wondering just how he could expect to take that humongous bozo down and not lose a limb doing it. Or if he could even take him down at all.

Daniel Jackson was not present at this debriefing. Frasier had taken one look, ordered him on bed rest under medical observation for twenty-four hours, and Daniel, for a change, hadn't argued. But the rest of SG-1 and SG-12 were present, minus Colonel Lassiter, with General Hammond presiding over the debriefing. They had taken their places around the table in the briefing room with each team on a side: the battle lines were drawn. O'Neill hadn't liked the seating chart but as the last man in after seeing to his civilian team member, he hadn't much choice as to where he would sit. He could have stood on rank and demanded a let's-play-nice arrangement, but that, he realized, would only have made the situation worse. SG-12 was glaring at SG-1, and as for SG-1? Well, Teal'c didn't need a glower to appear threatening.

Vincent continued. "It was all downhill from there. They escorted us inside their government building, the one with the bell tower. You remember it, Colonel. You mentioned it to me in your report yesterday, the place where they hold all their important community events. We got there as nice as you please, then they took Colonel Lassiter away by himself. That's the last we saw of him, until Jackson dragged him out a few hours later. Like that." He jerked an angry thumb in the general direction of the infirmary. He stuck out his chin. "Jackson blew it. He led us into a trap. We all would've been like Colonel Lassiter if we hadn't been lucky. They were out to get us, and Jackson didn't spot it." Vincent turned to face the commander of the SGC, veins standing out on his forehead. "General, Jackson is a civilian, and civilians don't belong on missions like this. We need someone who can do more than a half-ass job of threat-assessment. He put us all at risk. He's more interested in exploring the damn anthropological situations than he is in keeping our hides intact."

O'Neill tightened his lips. "I haven't heard anything yet to back that up, Vincent. Granted, the Theolosians are not the calmest of people. But they're not irrational. You follow their rules, you get what you want. You must have done something to rile them."

"Nothing," Vincent insisted. "Banner, Croft, you were there. Tell them! Tell General Hammond that those Theolosians went nuts, and Jackson didn't see it coming."

Sergeant Banner cast an angry look in Col. O'Neill's direction. "That's right, sir. Dr. Jackson didn't say anything to us." Croft nodded in agreement, but nervous as the depths of Teal'c's frown registered.

O'Neill's frown was also sinking fast. "We need to hear Daniel's version of things."

"What's to hear? We came, we saw, we got our colonel's butt kicked. Sir," Vincent tacked on with poor grace.

Hammond ignored the major. "Colonel O'Neill? How is Dr. Jackson?"

"Sore but living. Frasier said she'd release him tomorrow for light duty."

"And Colonel Lassiter?"

O'Neill frowned, aware that there was a lot of that frowning going around. "Not good, sir. Frasier was rounding up a surgical team when I left, seemed to think that it would be touch and go for the next twenty-four hours. He was beaten pretty badly."

Hammond leaned back in his chair, not satisfied with the outcome of the de-briefing but unable to think of anything more that could be accomplished. He was particularly not satisfied with what appeared to be an impending state of war between the two SG teams. Even Carter was stone-faced, and given the open-mindedness of the major, Hammond thought, that was something to be remarked upon. "We'll recess until tomorrow. Colonel O'Neill, I'm going to ask you to question Dr. Jackson as soon as possible about this. Major Vincent, I don't need to tell you to notify me when Colonel Lassiter is able to speak. We need to get to the bottom of this mess, find out why the Theolosians reacted as they did. No, Major Vincent, I am not satisfied with an explanation of 'they went nuts.' We may not agree with other worlds' ideas on how to conduct themselves, but that doesn't make them any less rational or their rules of behavior any less strict. Dismissed." He paused. "Colonel O'Neill, a word." The general waited until the rest had left, even waiting until Carter had done a backward glance with a question mark on it and then vanished after an admonitory nod from General Hammond: _yes, Major Carter, you too_.

Hammond wasted no more time. "Colonel, your opinion?"

"Of the Theolosians? Not a clue, general. They're bigoted, pig-headed, angry sons-of-bitches, but as I said, they're not irrational. SG-12 stepped on their toes somehow."

"No, I mean of Major Vincent's allegations about Dr. Jackson's lack of foresight." Hammond folded his hands.

O'Neill shrugged unhappily. "I'm reserving my opinion on that, general. Daniel is stubborn, annoying, flaky, and a general pain in the ass but the one thing he is not is incompetent. I'd like to hear what he has to say before coming to a conclusion."

"So you're not recommending that I pull him off field duty, as Major Vincent suggests?"

O'Neill shifted uneasily. "I think we can safely delay that decision, general. Doc told me that she's grounding him for twenty four hours for concussion. Daniel isn't going anywhere for a day or so."

Hammond sighed. "See what you can get out of him, see if he has an explanation for Colonel Lassiter's treatment at the hands of the Theolosians. Frankly, I'd like to put this incident to rest as quickly as possible. Having two SG teams at war with each other is not going to be good for morale."

"No, sir," O'Neill agreed, thinking of the last time that an SG team annoyed Teal'c. All of Daniel's explanations of Tau're behavior hadn't been enough to sway the big Jaffa, and it was only because O'Neill gave Teal'c a direct order that what's-his-name of SG-6 was still walking on two legs. No, having disgruntled personnel in the SGC was something to be avoided at all costs. "I'll talk to Daniel tonight. Assuming he's able to talk."

* * *

Carter wandered into the gym, towel in hand, for her daily morning routine. Strapping on protective gear, she selected a punching bag and went to work. There weren't many people in at this hour; most were still gratefully inhaling their first cup of caffeine and hoping not to be called upon for any heroics until after their second.

Carter enjoyed the gym at this hour. She was in excellent physical shape; that she knew. But in this testosterone-driven environment there were always a few around who felt the need to demonstrate that they could best the little girl who wanted to play with the big boys. The old timers in the SGC had gotten their come-uppance when Carter had first been assigned to Cheyenne Mountain but the newbies always needed a lesson or two. If they arrived in time, Carter felt obligated to give it to them. If they were later in the day, they would have to be satisfied by getting their ego pounded by the alien (not likely. The SGC was not noted for hiring people with minimal intelligence) or the aging colonel with the bad knees (in which case Colonel O'Neill knocked them silly very quickly in order to save those bad knees). Despite his protestations to the contrary, Colonel O'Neill was also not noted for minimal intelligence.

At this hour, however, there were few participants to compete with her for either the equipment or for bragging rights. Carter worked up a fine sweat before becoming aware of the pair to one side of her. A grumbled phrase caught her attention.

"Damn civilian. Getting away with murder."

It was the sergeants from SG-12, Banner and Croft. Carter recognized the tactic immediately: the pair was muttering just loudly enough to be heard yet not so much that she had to take official notice of them. Carter grimaced; she really didn't want to put up with this. All she wanted was a nice, early morning work out before heading down to the infirmary to listen to Daniel wheedle Janet Frasier into allowing him to stay on base to work during the day instead of going home to sleep off the remainder of his concussion. The archeologist would win, too. That Carter was convinced of, through long exposure to the man. Daniel had done his share by sleeping quietly in the infirmary last night, now it was Frasier's turn to give in. At least, that was Daniel's view of the world.

"Civvie's got friends in high places. No way he could crawl out of this hole without 'em." Just a little bit louder.

"Heard he got laughed out of his field. Nobody wants 'im. Why are we the lucky ones that gotta get stuck with the leftovers?"

It was getting louder and harder to ignore. Carter's jabs grew more intense, taking out her frustration on the convenient punching bag.

"Not sending that geek out on my team. Never again. I don't want to get brought back home in a body bag."

Carter sent one last blow to set the bag reeling. She turned to the two sergeants, and kept her voice as even as Colonel O'Neill at his deadliest. "If you keep up this sort of behavior, gentlemen, I can guarantee that neither of you will need to concern yourselves about your condition when you get back through the 'Gate. Because you won't be going out in the first place. Or would you care to continue to challenge General Hammond's assessment of the situation?"

Banner had the good grace to flush. "No, ma'am." Croft merely looked away, hiding the expression that he couldn't contain.

Carter needed to make certain that the message got home. "Perhaps you weren't at the follow up de-briefing that General Hammond held," she suggested sweetly, knowing full well that they were since Croft had been seated next to her shortly before being dismissed for the day. "You remember that? The de-briefing where he told us that Colonel Lassiter didn't follow instructions by ignoring all the Theolosian women?" Carter remembered that part of Daniel's lecturing all too well. She always had to take a deep breath when dealing with cultures that restricted female behavior, and the Theolosians had been particularly trying. And it didn't help when Daniel tried to tell her that there were usually some benefits to the division of tasks. But it was one of the reasons that the all male SG-12 had been selected to take over negotiations. Apparently Colonel Lassiter had forgotten that part of Daniel's lecture as well.

"Yes, ma'am," Banner muttered. Croft said something under his breath.

"What was that, Sergeant Croft? I missed what you said."

"I was there. Major," Croft tacked on with poor grace. "I heard what the general said. I also heard that Colonel O'Neill was the one to question Jackson." There it was, not quite out in the open, but the insinuation that Colonel O'Neill was covering up his team member's mistake.

The temperature got several degrees colder. "I hope you're not suggesting that Colonel O'Neill altered or slanted his report to the general, sergeant."

The look on Croft's face implied exactly that. "No, ma'am."

"Good. Then I can assume that this discussion has been resolved to everyone's satisfaction. Dismissed."

_Big assumption, Sam. Probably wrong, too_.

* * *

It wasn't until a shadow fell over the document that Daniel became aware of another person in his office. The bulk of the shadow suggested Teal'c, and he started to look up with welcome.

It wasn't Teal'c. It was Major Vincent, leaning on his desk, looming over the archeologist, and not looking happy. He placed two massive tree-trunk arms onto Daniel's desk. The sturdy piece of furniture moaned under the stress.

"Are you aware," Vincent asked in an icy voice, "that they are taking Colonel Lassiter back into surgery again this morning? That he may not live? That he's still bleeding from inside his guts where they kicked him until they thought he was dead?"

Daniel blinked. It wasn't clear if Vincent expected an answer. It _was_ clear that the man was just _this_ side of controlled with his anger. Best not to push that anger. "I'm sorry to hear that. Lassiter is a good man. But Janet Frasier is the best. If anyone can pull Lassiter through, it will be Frasier and her team."

"That's _Colonel_ Lassiter to you, Jackson." Vincent cast around, lit on a small pottery vase acting as a paperweight. Last week it had briefly returned to its previous occupation as a vase and proved that it could still hold water. Minoan, Daniel automatically thought, sixth century B.C. Not particularly valuable, but it did hold memories. Major Vincent closed his hand around the object and held it in front of Daniel's face. Then, very deliberately, he squeezed. A crack appeared almost instantly, and a triangular chip fell away from the vase leaving a hole behind. Vincent set the now broken vase back down onto the papers to resume its role of paperweight. He turned back to Daniel. "I hope you'll do the right thing, Dr. Jackson. I'd hate for anyone else to be killed trying to play out of their league."

"No one has died yet." Daniel kept his hands below the level of the desk so that Vincent wouldn't see them shaking. This was a major in the military. He wouldn't lose control. Vincent was angry, but still an officer. This was inside a highly classified, well run military facility. Daniel was in no danger. Still…

"You had better think very carefully about what you put into your report, Dr. Jackson," Vincent added, keeping those icy tones in his voice. "I know I have." He straightened up, took his hands off of Daniel's desk. "Good day, Dr. Jackson."


	2. Teknet's Treasure 2

Colonel O'Neill decided not to politely clear his throat for the third time. Twice was plenty. He walked in, stepped over the three piles of papers stacked haphazardly on the floor, and perched himself on the corner of the desk, dislodging several more papers and sliding a strong lamp over just enough so the man behind the disheveled desk couldn't possibly miss that he was no longer alone. "Daniel?"

Daniel jumped, almost leaping out of his chair and knocking over one more stack of un-filed papers. He caught himself, settled himself back into his chair with a sheepish look and grabbing the papers before they could cascade to the floor. "Jack? Sorry, I didn't hear you come in. What's up?"

"You are, apparently. You're more nervous than me and a pit of snakes. Didn't Frasier tell you to take it easy? Speaking of which, didn't she tell you to go home?"

"This is taking it easy." Daniel shuffled the papers into a haphazard mess masquerading as a stack. He also carefully ignored his commanding officer's second question.

"Not from my point of view."

"Am I dodging staff blasts?" Daniel cocked his head, innocent blue eyes looking at brown ones.

"No."

"Am I running from a legion of angry Jaffa?"

"Well…no."

"Am I even trying to talk sense into a herd of overgrown herbivores who want to stomp us into the ground?"

"Daniel—"

Daniel leaned back in his chair. "I am taking it easy," he repeated, going for the scientist-at-rest look. "You can report back to Dr. Frasier that I am doing exactly what she told me to do. I am sitting in my chair. I am reading comfortably." He grinned wickedly, although the expression didn't quite come off to O'Neill. There were those little lines around the eyes that suggested a wariness that O'Neill couldn't account for. "I even gave up my usual get-beaten-up-by-Jack-O'Neill-in-the-name-of-self-defense work out routine for today. Aren't you proud of me?" He didn't give O'Neill a chance for a come back. Instead, he picked up a sheaf of papers for emphasis and, incidentally, changing the subject to something safer. "I've been waiting to get to this, Jack. Do you know what this is?"

"Don't change the subject. You were supposed to be working on a report for the general about yesterday's mission."

"All done, and winging its way to the general's desk by way of e-mail." Daniel swallowed hard. Major Vincent would not be a happy camper at Daniel's honesty, and their little interview an hour ago sent a shiver down his spine. He shook it off and rushed on. "Look at this. Do you know what this is?"

O'Neill peered. "A bunch of moldy old papers?"

"Well, yes, but what else?" Daniel waved them in the air, clearly pleased with himself. "If I'd known how important these were, I wouldn't have let them sit around my desk for so long collecting dust."

"Hah. You admit it. They do have mold." O'Neill considered sneezing for emphasis.

Daniel beat him to it.

"Gesundheit." But, since Daniel was so clearly begging for a straight line, O'Neill fed it to him. "What's in the papers? Besides mildew?"

"A treasure map. Location, southwest United States."

"Really? Black Beard, the Pirate? Deserted island buried treasure chest type treasure map?"

"Almost. A _Goa'uld_ buried treasure chest type treasure map." Daniel grinned. "Interested in going treasure hunting with me? Want to see what's left after the fall of the Goa'uld Empire? A used hand jewel or two? A body shield, perhaps?"

O'Neill stared. "You're serious. You're talking an abandoned cache of Goa'uld technology, here on Earth, where we can get at it without fighting off a horde of Jaffa."

"You bet I am, Jack." Daniel grinned widely. This time the expression looked more real, and less forced. "How does 'Find of the Century' sound? And that's before I finish translating everything that the Goa'uld left behind on his shopping list. Some of the stuff I have no idea what it is or what it does. I'm hoping that Teal'c will know."

O'Neill began to catch Daniel's enthusiasm. "At this point, I don't care what it is or where it is. If it's on Earth, it's ours for the taking, and I'd like to take it as soon as possible. I'll notify General Hammond." He glanced at his watch. "Let's brief in one hour. Catch Carter and Teal'c; start requisitioning a vehicle and whatever supplies you think we'll need. We'll leave in the morning." He looked back at Daniel, not liking the lines still etched in the man's face. "And go home early, Daniel. You're less than twenty-four hours from your previous mission; a mission, I might add, that didn't turn out so well. Get some rest so that Frasier will let you tag along instead of phoning in the directions to us." An artifact caught his eye. It wasn't so much the artifact that got his attention, it was the state that the artifact was in: broken. Which in itself wasn't so unusual—Daniel had many souvenirs with a chip or two missing—but O'Neill distinctly remembered this particular hunk of pottery as being able to contain water. In fact, just last week Carter had placed some water into it, along with a small spray of daisies that she had collected outside the gate, just to prove to herself that there could be something other than gray metal underneath Cheyenne Mountain. Daniel had good-naturedly put up with the abuse and the flowers only because Carter supplied him with extra tissues against the sneezing.

But this artifact would never again hold water. There was a long crack along one side with a triangular chip knocked out at the bottom. O'Neill picked it up. "When did this happen?"

Daniel's face went dead, and O'Neill knew he'd hit a nerve. "Daniel?"

"I dropped it."

Which was about as likely as Hathor asking O'Neill for lessons on crocheting. Daniel held each and every artifact in his possession with the same care Carter would take with an about-to-explode vessel of naquedah. The fact that the man wouldn't look him in the eye was also a not so subtle clue.

O'Neill recalled walking by Major Vincent on his roundabout way to Daniel's office. It clicked. The major had saluted, they had exchanged concerned comments as to Lassiter's progress of which there was little, and Vincent had made his way to the elevator. All perfectly normal, perfectly above board for a second in command looking to write up the obligatory reports on a mission gone bad. But…

"Daniel, was Major Vincent in here a little while ago?"

At least Daniel had the grace not to deny anything. "Leave it alone, Jack," he said, leaning back wearily in his chair. "The man is tired, and frustrated, and upset. And scared; Colonel Lassiter just went back into surgery."

"Which doesn't give him the right to take it out on you." O'Neill indicated the damaged artifact. "That could have been you."

"But it wasn't. And it won't be. As soon as he realized what he had done, he left." Which wasn't exactly the whole story, but it was enough, Daniel thought, so that Colonel O'Neill wouldn't pursue it. Officially or otherwise. He would suspect, but he would leave it alone. There was a price to be paid to be a civilian to be working in a military facility, just as there had been a price to be paid as a science geek walking to school on the same sidewalks as the sports jocks. This was simply part of the cost of doing business. The Theolosians had their rules for behavior, and the military had theirs. Not so very different, when one came right down to it. And the colonel knew it.

Daniel was right. O'Neill pursed his lips, staring at Daniel as if telepathy were a reality. "All right," he said finally. "But I want you off of this base and home right after the briefing. Go to sleep, Daniel. No more work. No coffee to stay awake. Go home and get a good night's rest. You can do whatever translating you have left on this document in the car en route to the site you've picked out for us. We leave Cheyenne for your Goa'uld treasure chest at nine o'clock sharp in the morning. Be there."

* * *

The briefing room could have held several more people than SG-1 and General Hammond, but Daniel was more than satisfied with his audience. He stood in front of the group, the document he was working on blown up in living color onto the screen against the back wall. _Brings back old memories of lecturing to undergrads, doesn't it, Dr. Jackson?_

Uncomfortable feeling. Even then, the ridicule of the intellectual community was beginning to make itself felt. Bravely he quelled those feelings, launching into the discussion of what he had discovered. This was StarGate Command, where he'd proven his theories correct and opened the StarGate to other worlds. No more ridicule. Instead: vindication.

"This document was discovered on a dig some fifteen years ago, well before the StarGate went into active operation." _Preaching to the choir, Jackson. These people were there at the beginning. Or one of the beginnings_. "Since no one could read Goa'uld, it was considered an interesting anomaly: it was put aside in favor of projects more easily accomplishable. There were several papyrus parchments like this, and I understand that another was found recently in some of the less-explored ruins in the Yucatan. With our current level of sophistication, we can now translate this document."

"Get to the point, Daniel," O'Neill called out. "I've got a mission to plan. On Earth, for a change. How unique. Shall we stay at a Hilton, or the local B & B? Something with a hot tub would be nice," he confided to Teal'c in an aside. "Poolside bar. Cold beer after a hot day of lugging staff weapons back to the hotel room."

"Yes. Well, I'm not certain that the amenities will be up to quite those standards," Daniel admitted. "The point is: I was finally able to get to this particular document and translate it."

"And you found—?" O'Neill prodded eagerly, knowing pretty much what was coming and when to put in the obligatory straight line to keep Daniel focused. Some unknown and unappreciated long dead Goa'uld's cache of weapons and toys, all there for the taking, he grinned to himself. No angry natives deciding that picking up a zat constituted sacrilege. No Goa'uld showing up with a legion of Jaffa armed with staff weapons wanting to reacquire his discarded belongings. Just a couple days of plucking bounty from the earth, with a chance to stretch out and relax at the end of the day with a hot shower and a cold beer, and not even have to stand a watch at night against things that went bump in the night. This might actually be fun. He waited for Daniel to make his big announcement. The archeologist didn't disappoint.

"Teknet's shopping list," Daniel announced triumphantly, "including which devices he left in which aisle. The whole thing: devices, location, user's guide, everything. And, guys, it's less than a day's drive away. It's in Arizona."

The excitement drained from more than one face. Carter looked positively sick at Daniel's announcement. O'Neill was the one to break the unpleasant and apparently ignored factoid to the linguist. "You do remember, Daniel, that Teknet is still around on Earth, just waiting to cause more mayhem? That only a few months ago he and his minion—gaah, I can't believe I'm actually using the word 'minion'—kidnapped you with the intention of turning you into a faithful yet mindless slave?"

"Indeed, DanielJackson." Teal'c turned a stern gaze upon his team mate. "What leads you to believe that this Goa'uld has not already repossessed his belongings?" The Jaffa looked as though he would have liked to spit at the thought of a Goa'uld still living upon his adopted home world.

"Because he doesn't know where they are," Daniel replied triumphantly. The archeologist was not about to give up. "Look, we know that every Goa'uld receives a genetic memory of everything that every other Goa'uld knows up to that point, but Teknet wrote down this list because he knew he wouldn't remember where he put everything. That list is not part of his genetic memory, and he can't remember the hiding place. Teknet tried to kill off the other Goa'uld translators here at the SGC, but me he kidnapped because he thought I'd seen his list. He wanted it back. Or at least, the information on the list."

"So, it wasn't just for your good looks?"

Daniel flushed, and ignored O'Neill's jib. "Teknet has never been known as a particularly smart Goa'uld, and this list proves it. None of the other Goa'ulds wrote things down on a piece of parchment where pesky humans could get at it."

"But, Daniel, won't Teknet be looking for these things as well?" It was Carter. "What if he's already been there?"

"He hasn't," Daniel replied. "He never got the list from me. You guys showed up before he could dig the information out of my brain. And, in case I didn't say it then, thanks." He shivered with the memory, trying to suppress it. Part of Teknet's technique had been to weaken the archeologist's mind through the application of cold; namely, tossing Daniel out into the winter snow to freeze. Another part had been placing a brain-washing device onto his head. His temples ached in sympathetic memory. _Nah, it's not fear. It's just leftover concussion._ "Teknet's gone into hiding, so we can go after his things in relative safety. He hasn't a clue where it is." Daniel pasted a smile back onto his face, returning to his main selling point. "Hand jewels, body shields, maybe even a staff weapon or two? Worth a little sight-seeing jaunt to Arizona? I hear it's really nice this time of year."

"It makes sense," Carter said thoughtfully, wanting to agree. "If Teknet already had his things, he'd be using them right now. All he had was that brain-washing thing that Daniel described and nothing else. As Goa'uld's go, this one was pretty helpless. Even his host was fairly weak compared to most Goa'uld hosts, and he ran when we showed up to get Daniel back. He didn't even try to fight."

"Indeed," Teal'c agreed. "He could have kept the _tuvatka're_ with him in the sarcophagus in preparation for when he arose, but there is no evidence that this Goa'uld possesses any other technology with which to conquer Earth." The Jaffa sat back in his chair, coming to a conclusion. "Based on this discussion, it is my belief that Teknet has yet to reacquire his devices. General Hammond, I recommend that we seek out this site without delay. There is always the possibility that the Goa'uld might yet remember the site, or that someone else may stumble across these items, and the weapons lost to us."

But O'Neill wasn't satisfied. "I'm all for this, guys, but where is the snake right now? Why hasn't he gone after Daniel again, if he thinks that Daniel knows where his little Goa'uld-y toys are?"

Daniel had an answer ready. "He's afraid. You ran him off, and he won't come after me until he's re-established his power base. That's typical Goa'uld behavior, Jack. I figure we've got a year or more until he surfaces. Remember, Goa'ulds think in terms of centuries, not weeks. A year would be nothing to him. Think about Seth; he showed up every few decades with another group of followers, trying to take over the world. We were lucky that he wasn't successful, and that we were able to take him out in this century."

"We've been circulating a picture of Teknet's current host around the government enforcement agencies," General Hammond reminded them. "No one seems able to find him."

"All right, so he's gone underground," was O'Neill's opinion. "I know I would, if I were a snake. Which I'm not," he added with an indignant look at no one. He turned to his commanding officer. "Okay, I'm convinced. I'm up for this treasure map of yours, Daniel. General, do we have a go?"

General Hammond harrumphed. "Yes, colonel, you do. You'll leave in the morning." He shuffled his papers together, preparatory to standing up. "On Earth, for a change. You might even think of it as leave time, since you don't have to pack any wilderness gear. A vacation of sorts. Take in a movie. See some tourist sights."

O'Neill turned back to the linguist. "So, Daniel, where is this 'X marks the spot' place? Palm Springs? Hawaii? Just outside some little resort town noted for its hot springs and soothing mineral baths?"

Daniel winced. "I wouldn't exactly call Peyote a resort town, Jack. And Palm Springs is in California, not Arizona."

"Ever been to Peyote, Daniel?"

"No."

"Then I'll hope for the best, and plan for the worst. I've always wanted a credit card with a Goa'uld's name on it," Colonel O'Neill remarked to the air. He turned to his team. "Let's go shopping, kids. I hear Teknet is having a sale on hand jewels and ladies' lingerie."


	3. Teknet's Treasure 3

The warm evening summer air felt good. Carter signed herself out of Cheyenne Mountain Base, smiling absently at the guard on duty, and stretched. Hot sunlight beat down on her face—it was a fine thing to leave the job behind while the sun was still high up in the sky. That was the best part about summer: the long hours of daylight. Carter mentally gave herself permission for a three mile jog once she got home, to take advantage of the weather. She'd still have plenty of time to pack for tomorrow's mission. She'd need more clothing than usual; they were going incognito, with the Air Force insignia left behind. Even Teal'c was being supplied with clothing to camouflage his golden mark of First Prime to Apophis. Tee shirts, shorts, and sun tan lotion; that would be the bulk of her gear. Hopefully whatever motel in Peyote, Arizona they stayed at would also have a pool, if not a hot tub to satisfy the colonel. The summers could be brutal in the desert.

She spotted Daniel's name just three slots above her on the sign out roster, and grinned. Colonel O'Neill had promised Janet Frasier that he'd get the archeologist to go home for a good night's sleep before setting out tomorrow, and apparently the colonel had made good on his promise. True, the day was almost over, but for Daniel that was a major concession. Carter herself didn't mind putting in the hours—what's an all-nighter or two when there's a fascinating doohickey to play with?—but Daniel's motto was _why sleep when you can drink caffeine?_

She strolled out into the wide lot, scanning the herd of vehicles for her own little sports number. There it was, tucked under a turned off parking lot light. Despite the summer hours, staying late into the darkness was not unusual for any member of the SGC, and Carter tried to minimize any risk to herself whenever she could. Not that she felt herself to be in any danger—this was, after all, a military base with guards posted everywhere—but unnecessary risks were foolish. It was a good habit to get into.

Her gaze lit on a small group of men. Carter recognized Daniel's car before she recognized Daniel: the archeologist was pinned up against his own vehicle by two other brawny men in fatigues. A second look identified the men as the two sergeants from SG-12. It was the same pair that had mouthed off this morning in the gym, trying to goad a superior officer into unacceptable behavior.

The situation didn't look good. The three were in earnest discussion, but the set of two pairs of shoulders seemed a mite too aggressive for Carter's taste. If she didn't know better, she would have said that the sergeants were looming over her team mate. Okay, Carter did know better: those two were downright threatening. Option one: call Colonel O'Neill for back up. Carter dismissed that as too slow, and, if she called the colonel they'd have to take official notice of Banner and Crofts' actions. SG-12 had been through enough, and SG-12's own colonel was still hanging to life by a thread and a prayer and the skill of Janet Frasier and her people. Lassiter's team, and all of the SGC, didn't need that. Option two—look for someone else leaving the base at the same time or grabbing one of the desk sergeants—was also too slow. In five minutes Cheyenne Mountain would empty out as it hit five o'clock, but anything could happen in those five minutes.

Option number three sounded better. Carter tried to make her gait seem like a leisurely saunter but even with long legs she wanted to get there before anything irreparable happened.

The two sergeants were crowding Daniel against the side of his car, pinning him with no place to go. Daniel wasn't a small man, but each of his adversaries came in at well over six feet and a lot more muscle bulk.

"It's all because of you that our colonel is lying there," she heard Banner snarl into Daniel's face. "Damn geek civilian. Why don't you sit behind a desk, where you belong?"

"Better yet, go back to some school and teach whiny brats. That's all you're good for," Croft put in.

"You don't want to do this," Daniel said evenly. "This is the middle of a parking lot. There are security people all around. Back off."

"Afraid, little geek?" Banner jeered. "You're brave when you've got a big, strong Jaffa to look after you. Put you in a real situation, and you screw up. Go home, screw-up. Go home, and don't come back."

Carter arrived. "What's going on here?"

Banner didn't even look around, didn't bother to see who it was. A female voice had to be a civilian secretary. "Go home, lady. This doesn't concern you."

Carter pulled herself up straight. Her voice took on a knife-edged snap. "Come to attention when you address me, soldier!"

_That_ penetrated. Banner and Croft whipped around, fear and shock in every line of suddenly stiffened bodies. "Uh…"

"That's _Major_ Carter to you, soldier." She took in the sight of her teammate. Good; no damage. There was still time to get everyone out of this mess without any records, assuming everyone cooperated and stuck to their assigned roles. "Dr. Jackson?"

Daniel too wanted this to be over, and, typical of the man, was ready to forgive. After all, the sergeants' colonel was still struggling for life. And he really didn't want the SGC to turn into two factions: military and non-military with himself in the gross minority. General Hammond had enough trouble running the place without adding that to the list. "Just a slight misunderstanding, Sam." And very willing to let it stay unofficial.

"Really." That was for Banner and Croft's benefit. Let their victim plead for them, see how humiliating she could make it. This lesson would have to go a long way. And Daniel was sticking to his assigned lines just beautifully. _Squirm, gentlemen. That's your part of this mess._

Neither sergeant was foolish. Both knew a way out when they saw it, even if it was at the hands of their victim. "Yes, ma'am," Banner hastened to say. "A misunderstanding. It won't happen again, ma'am. Major," he hastily tacked on, all but cringing.

If it weren't so serious, Sam would have laughed in his face, and wouldn't that have destroyed the lesson she was trying to deliver? "Dismissed," she said with a straight face, rapping it out with a curtness that O'Neill would have applauded. The pair hustled away, Carter knowing from just the way they walked that the matter hadn't been settled. She'd been on the receiving end too many times herself not to recognize the pseudo-passivity that oozed from every step they took, every glance they threw back over their shoulders to see if she was chasing them. Getting Daniel out of town for a few days would be a good thing. By then Frasier would have their colonel off the critical list, the sergeants would settle down, and things could get back to normal.

But, on to the matter at hand. She turned to her team mate. "Daniel? You okay?"

"Fine." The beads of sweat could be attributed to the hot sun beating down on them. Daniel stared off after the retreating pair. "I thought General Hammond came to a conclusion about the PJX-343 mission. Didn't Banner and Croft hear about it?"

"Oh, they heard." Carter too spared them a glance. The sergeants got into a single car, driving off in a roar of dust, barely pausing for the gate bar to lift to allow them to leave. "They just didn't want to accept the decision."

Daniel grimaced. "Not that I blame them. They report directly to Colonel Lassiter; they've followed the man to the proverbial Gates of Hell and back. How often do we refuse to believe what we hear about Jack until we see it for ourselves? I told Lassiter not to touch any of the women on PJX-343, and he did. End of story." He shook it off. "Let it go, Sam. We'll head off for the Arizona desert tomorrow morning, explore some ruins, find some Goa'uld technology, and by the time we get back Banner and Croft will have gotten over their snit. With luck, Colonel Lassiter will have recovered enough to be able to sit up and tell them what fools they were."

"You may be right." But Carter wasn't displeased with the thought of getting Daniel Jackson away from Cheyenne Mountain Base for a week or so. Should she warn Colonel O'Neill? No, she decided. Better not put the colonel into a situation where as second in command of Cheyenne Mountain Base he would have to take official notice. This would be the better option.

* * *

O'Neill caught the box that Teal'c tossed effortlessly to him, stowing it into the back of the SUV that Daniel had requisitioned for them. This mission had required a different sort of planning, and it felt odd not to have to think about survival gear. A pocket-knife instead of a seven inch blade, although the P-90 was standard issue; there was no mission that O'Neill would go on without it or something equivalent, and O'Neill was determined to be prepared. After all, even though Teknet was presumed to be hiding somewhere snaky, he could still show up for nuisance value. But there was no equipment for Carter to tinker with, no soil specimens that needed collecting, and any rocks with Earthly scribbling on it would be turned over to whatever archeology department Daniel had connections to for more mundane research. They didn't even need cooking gear; Daniel had pointed out the target zone which was near enough to the small town that could put them up for a week or two with no problem. Small towns had diners, and O'Neill had made do with worse. Any additional equipment they needed could be obtained by walking into the local hardware store. The only real tool that should be packed would be a credit card. This mission would be a cakewalk.

Then O'Neill cringed. Thinking like that led to carelessness, and carelessness led to problems. The early morning sun beat down on his shoulders, baking the tarmac around him, promising more heat to come unless they could escape in the SUV with its standard equipment air-conditioning very soon.

All right, problem number one: "Where's Daniel?" O'Neill asked, trying not to let his irritation leak out. The civilian member of his team was, as usual, late. It didn't matter whether it was the Gate Room or the loading dock, the man was always late.

Carter looked at her watch. "He said he was planning to get back to the base early this morning, pack up a few resources."

"Books, he means," O'Neill said sourly. "All he needs is the Teknet document and a couple of maps. He doesn't need heavy books to tote around." He picked up the phone on the wall, punching in a well-known set of digits. "Daniel—?" His voice trailed off as he realized that the voice on the other end was an office answering machine. "Not there. Think he overslept? He looked pretty wiped yesterday."

"I'll try him at home." Carter pulled out her cell phone, punching in the speed dial. "No answer, sir. Maybe he's on the road."

But there was no answer to the archeologist's cell phone, or any other way they could think of to get hold of him.

"This is most unlike DanielJackson," Teal'c noted. "It is now close to one hour of postponement. Although he may be moments late for an appointment, this sort of delay bodes ill."

O'Neill looked at his watch. "Yeah. Ill. Maybe I'll call the local police, see if there've been any accidents on the road to Cheyenne."

Carter too looked uncomfortable. "Sir, I think I should make you aware of something. I didn't think much of it at the time, but now…"

"Carter?"

Carter swallowed. "Yesterday, in the parking lot, I broke up what looked to be a confrontation between Daniel and the two sergeants of SG-12. I didn't think anything more would happen—they were just blowing off a little steam—but now I'm not so sure. Sergeants Banner and Croft were pretty angry."

O'Neill became grim. "Lassiter took a turn for the worse late yesterday, just before people were heading out for home. Banner and Croft would have been on top of the news. I ran into Major Vincent yesterday, and he was doing pretty much the same thing: angry, and wanting to blame Daniel. I got there a couple of moments too late to actually see Vincent in action, and you all know Daniel. Wouldn't tell on Vincent, wouldn't let me rip the guy a new one. Wanted me to wait for Lassiter to be up and around, let Vincent's own colonel handle it. That's assuming that Lassiter is going to pull through."

"That is probably what drove them to seek out DanielJackson, whom they perceive to be the cause of the colonel's injuries," Teal'c offered. "However, it does not prove that they are involved in his tardiness. DanielJackson may have fallen asleep at his desk. He has been known to do so on many occasions."

"Yeah." Even though O'Neill didn't think so. _Damn trouble magnet_. "All right: plan. Teal'c, go check out Daniel's office. With luck, you're right: he's asleep at his desk and we'll laugh when Daniel falls asleep on the road again to make up for lost time. Carter, you stay here as base of operations and finish loading the SUV. If he shows up, call me on my cell."

"And you, sir?"

"I'm going to check out Daniel's apartment. And the roads in between."

* * *

First bad sign: Daniel's door was unlocked. No, cancel that; the door wasn't unlocked, it had been forced open. There was a difference, and O'Neill for damn sure didn't like the implication behind the broken metal. He pushed open the door, careful not to touch the hard surface in case there was a fingerprint from a careless kidnapper that they could hunt for. Though it wouldn't be likely; anyone who knew enough about Dr. Daniel Jackson to want to hijack him would most likely be professional enough not to leave helpful hints behind.

Second bad sign: Daniel had put up a struggle. The coffee table was overturned, and a coffee cup had long since soaked its contents into the long suffering rug. O'Neill touched the damp spot: cold, meaning that the archeologist had been taken several hours previously, probably last night shortly after getting home. That narrowed it down but also suggested that whoever they were, Daniel's assailants had had more time to put some distance between here and their current location. O'Neill wished not for the first time that he'd insisted that the man move to one of the more secure complexes, something with an overage and overweight guard on duty to pretend to protect the apartment dwellers. At least there would have been some security camera footage to use.

He pulled out his cell. "Carter? Call the general. We're missing one slightly eccentric archeologist. No, make that an extremely eccentric archeologist. And get a forensics team over to Daniel's apartment. I'm going to start a search, see what I can pick up at the moment."

"Is he—?"

"No, looks like whoever it was wanted him alive. But he didn't go easily," O'Neill added grimly, noting the three smashed chairs around the dining table. Some of the souvenir artifacts that Daniel had stashed around the shelves didn't look as though they'd be easy to replace, either. Daniel himself wouldn't be easy to replace. "No blood that I can see."

"Banner and Croft?"

"They're our first suspects," O'Neill agreed. "Tell Security to detain them, and Vincent as well. Oh, and Carter?"

"Sir?"

"Make sure that Teal'c is in the room when Security questions them. I'd like to have a member of our team around to hear the answers." _Never underestimate the power of a glowering Jaffa on a guilty conscience._

O'Neill started to survey the ruined apartment in detail, taking in the evidence in a careful and systematic circle. There was a lot of wreckage, more than he would expect from professionals. Maybe not professionals? Possibly several assailants looking for an easy mark? And Daniel, head buried in a book or document of some sort, would look easy for a mugging. Note to self: after completing survey, have Carter call the local hospitals and contact the police for news of a local mugging. Maybe they'd be lucky and find Daniel and a headache at the local Emergency Department. He moved on to the kitchenette.

Hm. The coffee-maker had been turned off. There was cold coffee turning to swill inside the pot. Not Daniel; the man constantly had the caffeine fountain going. Kidnapper had turned off the coffee-maker so that it didn't start a fire. That didn't sound like muggers. They usually weren't so considerate. If it were Banner and Croft, maybe they had an over-developed sense of cleaning up after themselves. At the least there might be another crack at a fingerprint.

More puzzles. Anything missing? O'Neill used a pencil to dig through the detritus, trying to think what might not be here. What would Daniel have brought home with him? Texts? Maybe, but he'd be packing them up for today's mission. Dinner? No, there it was on the countertop, leaking through the waxy container with Oriental symbols on top. O'Neill restrained the urge to clean it up. Might contain a clue, or worse, some bacteria. Let the Forensics boys touch that. The mere presence of the uneaten meal tended to discount Banner. O'Neill remembered the sergeant as still having the appetite of an adolescent despite being close to thirty. If it had been the pair of sergeants, Banner would have slurped down the Lo Mein before leaving.

Wait a minute. Daniel would have brought home a copy of the document that he'd discovered, that Goa'uld shopping list, and there was no sign of it anywhere. O'Neill's blood ran cold. Very serious. Not many people knew that the StarGate existed, and those who did who were outside the program would have a very good reason to want to purchase an archeologist on the cheap. Which also meant not Banner, Croft, or Vincent, who were all loyal members of the SGC. Unless someone had gotten to them? Too many unanswered questions.

O'Neill continued to move through the small apartment, noting anything and everything, and the further he got, the more puzzling it became. Only professionals would have taken items—both living and not—that were part of the StarGate program. But professionals wouldn't take the chance on being overheard by smashing up the place. Pro's didn't break furniture, didn't spill coffee, and usually had a long black sedan to carry away their victim.

He waited until the Forensics Team arrived before going outside where the reception was better. Then he made a few phone calls to numbers that were never committed to paper. And called in a few favors.


	4. Teknet's Treasure 4

Croft was openly sweating, his face pale. Lt. Baker of Security was conducting the interrogation, with Carter sitting at the table beside him. There were two people standing in the background, one in each corner, both with arms folded and grim expressions: Teal'c—and General Hammond.

"You had it in for Dr. Jackson," Baker said coldly. "Major Carter broke it up between you and he last night. Don't even try to deny it."

"I'm not denying it," Croft snarled, trying to keep the fear from leaking out and puddling on the floor. It wasn't easy. "Jackson screwed up the mission and maybe cost our colonel his life! Geek deserves whatever he gets, but I didn't take him out!" He looked up defiantly. "And if I had, you would have found the body. I don't mess around!"

"Where were you last night?" Baker pushed. "Got any witnesses?"

"Yeah. Banner. He was with me. All night long. We put away a few six-packs."

"Got any proof?"

"Banner's my proof."

"Banner's another suspect. Try again, sergeant. And this time, try to act like part of this man's army instead of an immature brat with an attitude." Baker leaned over Croft, and Carter couldn't help but think how much more effective it would have been if it had been Teal'c doing the leaning instead of the relatively slight Lt. Baker. "You've had your fun, now it's time to tell us where Dr. Jackson is. Or maybe you think you're okay with spending the next several years as a guest of the penitentiary? Think again, sergeant. With your background, there won't be any parole, or time off for good behavior. No one will trust you not to take your knowledge of the StarGate to the highest bidder. They'll just lock you up and throw away the key."

For the first time, Croft allowed a look of fear to cross his face. "But I didn't do it, sir. And neither did Banner. Yeah, we were gonna rough him up out there in the parking lot, but that's all, I swear!" He gestured to Carter. "You were there, major. You broke it up. You saw us drive off!"

"But I didn't see where you went," Carter returned coolly. "For all I know, you followed Dr. Jackson home and assaulted him." She leaned forward, trying for the menace that the Jaffa behind her radiated so effortlessly. "That's my team mate who's missing, gentlemen. And he means as much to me as your colonel does to you."

"Dr. Jackson is the man responsible for opening the StarGate," General Hammond reminded them from where he stood. "This matter is not about to simply go away. I advise you to tell us everything you know."

"But I don't know anything!" Croft yelled, starting to crumble. Torture from natives of another world he could withstand, but this interrogation meant more to him.

An airman slipped in and whispered something into Baker's ear. Baker frowned, and gestured for the airman to repeat the message to the general. Then Baker turned back to Croft. "You're dismissed, sergeant, but you're confined to the base. We may need to talk to you further."

Croft froze. "That's…that's all? I can go?"

"Dismissed, sergeant," Baker repeated firmly.

That was all that it took. Croft all but bolted from the room, hastily throwing a salute in the general direction of the several senior officers.

Carter raised her eyebrows, looking back from the door to the officer in charge of the investigation. "Lieutenant?"

"Not him, major," Baker returned ruefully, "nor Banner either. Wish it were; it would make my job a lot easier. But my men reported back from both Dr. Jackson's apartment and from Croft's place. There were a few dozen beer cans in Croft's trash, which bears out his story of getting drunk last night with Banner. We checked with the neighbors, one of whom was ready to call the police last night to keep the noise down. The neighbors said that it was just about seven in the evening, which is when we've fixed the time for the break in at Dr. Jackson's."

"What about Major Vincent?"

Baker sighed. "I can't rule him out, but frankly, my gut tells me that it wasn't him either. Vincent has a background in intelligence, did some MP work early in his career. If he were going to kidnap Dr. Jackson or worse, he wouldn't have been so careless. He would have done the deed in the apartment parking lot when Dr. Jackson got home, or somewhere other than the apartment. This whole set up moves us forward too quickly onto the trail. I'll keep some people on him to do a rule out, but I'm putting my money on our clues from the apartment. It's not SG-12."

"What about DanielJackson's abode?" Teal'c put in. "What clues have you determined?"

"Colonel O'Neill was right; there was a fingerprint on the broken door and another one from the same person on the coffee machine. Amateurs," he snorted, and added, "and not Banner or Croft. We've involved the FBI to see if we can come up with a match. The answer should be back within a few hours."

* * *

"Colonel?" General Hammond looked up to see Jack O'Neill enter his office.

The colonel wouldn't have looked bad, not to a casual acquaintance, but General Hammond was not a casual acquaintance. The lines around the man's eyes were more pronounced, the brows more furrowed, and there was an angry droop to the shoulders that spoke of despair at this blow to his adopted family. The general sympathized, for he felt the same way; he had just gotten off the phone with a superior in Washington who had apparently consulted the dictionary in an attempt to tell Hammond just how unhappy he was at this loss of a national treasure and how could Hammond have been so careless as to mislay the man?

"General," O'Neill greeted him, dropping into a chair.

"Any word?" Hammond asked, knowing that there wasn't.

O'Neill shook his head, not meeting the other's gaze. "No. Sir, I think I need to take my team and look for Daniel in Arizona."

"Arizona, colonel?"

"Yes, sir. That's the spot that Daniel pinpointed for us, to go hunting with his treasure map." O'Neill warmed to his subject. "Our leads are all falling flat on this end, general. I've called my sources and none of them report any suspicious movements among the major players in the game. Banner and Croft are not the culprits; Baker was able to rule them out definitively. Vincent doesn't look good as a suspect; he may not have an alibi but I've worked with the man and my gut says no. The fingerprint that Forensics found in Daniel's apartment belongs to a twenty year old runaway, missing for three years. Name of Virginia Jones, AKA Ginny. Ginny Jones." He snorted. "She is now no longer missing. Or rather, she is, but she's missing along with Daniel. I can't think of any other reason why a twenty year old runaway's fingerprints would be on Daniel's smashed in doorknob. Or why she'd be in the vicinity of Daniel at all."

"And you think they're in Arizona."

"It's our best bet, general." O'Neill leaned back in his chair. "The Goa'uld shopping list that Daniel was working on is also missing, and there are very few people who know about it, let alone those anxious enough to do something about it. I've confirmed that he took a copy of the document home with him last night to work on. That copy is missing from his apartment."

"Teknet." Hammond grew grim. "Do you think this runaway is the Goa'uld's new host?"

"Possibly. We never found the snake after the last time, and he could have dumped his then host, knowing that his portrait would be among the nation's ten most wanted fugitives. He—now maybe she—wants his toys, general, and the only way to find them is to get Daniel to lead he/she/it to the treasure trove."

"Which Dr. Jackson will never do."

"Not willingly. And I'd rather get Daniel back before any of us find out what 'not willingly' involves."

* * *

_Hungry._

_Thirsty._

_Headache_.

Well, that about summed up his existence right about now. Oh, yes, mustn't forget the part about being tied spread-eagled between two posts with the rope all but cutting off circulation to both wrists and ankles. Nor the blindfold that took away his sense of time as well as sight.

He didn't have much left to explore his new surroundings. He had smell: there was a dusty, indoors scent that suggested concrete. And hearing told him that there were several people around him, mostly young and female, chittering in the background but rarely approaching him. Touch was giving him the most information: cold and drafty, since they had removed all his clothing except for his skivvies. Then they'd left him strictly alone to wallow in the misery of hunger, thirst, and a killer headache that was the direct descendant of the scuffle at his apartment.

He'd been unconscious for several hours, of that he was certain. There was the stale taste in his mouth, the stubble he could feel on his skin. He could also feel the air around him: it lacked humidity. Which meant that he wasn't in Colorado anymore, Dorothy, but rather someplace with significantly less moisture in it. Some desert type place, like Egypt. The Mojave Desert. The Sahara. The Kalahari. Death Valley.

Crap, as Jack liked to say. Was he reduced to chanting the major deserts of the world? Daniel wished that he hadn't ended up with Death Valley. It might give someone—anyone—ideas.

The whole scene played itself against his blindfolded eyes: he had walked into his apartment, set down the load of papers and books in his arms, plopped the Chinese on the kitchen counter and put on a pot of coffee as per his usual routine. It had been a long day; his head was still aching from yesterday's concussion, and the incident with Banner and Croft had shaken him more than he'd realized at the time. The next thing he knew, the door had been kicked in and a horde had jumped on him, knocking him to the floor. Things got very black very quickly after that.

Wait—had there been a pair of glowing eyes among that horde?

Double crap.

* * *

"This is the town?" Carter's voice held real doubt. "This is where Daniel said to come?"

"Peyote." O'Neill pointed out the sign. "Population: three. Not including the cattle."

Teal'c squinted at the sign. "O'Neill, am I misreading the sign? I believe the number is 300. There are substantially more people attached to this community than three."

"Okay, I take it back. Including the cattle." O'Neill looked around. "There any place to camp out?"

"I do not see any," Teal'c informed him. "I have not observed any signage for campgrounds in the last several miles of our approach, nor did we bring supplies for setting up a canvas shelter, O'Neill. There is, however, an establishment that purports to cater to temporary travelers on that corner."

"Thanks, T." O'Neill headed the SUV in the direction of the motel that Teal'c had pointed out, wondering if the big alien was once again attempting to try on Earth-style humor. It wasn't always easy to tell. Naw; the big guy just didn't understand O'Neill's brand of sarcasm. That was the answer. Right.

Hollywood could have hired the town of Peyote as a backdrop for a ghost town. Just move a few people off to the side, and the place would be safe for the passage of tumbleweeds down the main strip. Wait: there went one now. O'Neill smiled grimly. Not too many amenities, but likewise not too many people to get in his way. And, like as not, these were the type of people who would look at Teal'c sideways and then move on about their business. Nosing into someone else's wasn't their style.

He steered the SUV around a massive pothole in the road large enough to qualify as a ditch. The pothole was located just in front of the community center/town hall/police station/all around general government place. O'Neill wondered if it was a not so subtle dig at authority and decided that he definitely approved of Peyote, Arizona.

Then he spotted the one and only bar in town, and pointed it out to the others. "Tonight," he told them. "The locals will mosey on in, and I'll try to pump them about any other strangers in town. They won't tell on one of their own, but that girl that left the fingerprints isn't one of their own. She grew up and left Hoboken behind. I'll see what I can get."

* * *

Someone approached, and Daniel didn't know whether to regret it or be grateful for the break in the routine of hunger, thirst, headache, and boredom. He cast around sightlessly, trying to peer past the blindfold without success.

The footsteps paused; surveying him, Daniel was sure. They moved again, around in a semi-circle, looking at him from all sides. Daniel kept still, using sound to locate his captor, wondering what was going on. They hadn't asked him for anything, hadn't told him to talk on the phone to Jack or General Hammond to plead for his life. He would have welcomed that; Jack and Carter would have found some way to trace the call and come after him. For he was certain that he'd been missed by now. Jack O'Neill was not a patient man, and after discovering Daniel's apartment in its current condition he would have set out the alarms. _There were advantages to having friends in low places. Places like Level 18 of Cheyenne Mountain_.

The footsteps moved behind him, and stood there, waiting. Daniel could stand it no longer. He coughed, trying to work up some moisture in his throat. "What do you want?" he croaked.

Then he remembered the glowing eyes that had come at him in his apartment, just before a very large object connected with his head.

"You," a familiar voice rumbled. It was trying for deep and forbidding but what emerged was a wimpy falsetto whine, despite the cavernous Goa'uld echo. "You will tell me where my possessions are located. And you will tell me now."


	5. Teknet's Treasure 5

Samantha Carter surveyed her motel room with a certain dissatisfaction. There were two choices for a work surface: a flat but smallish table in the corner which did, in its favor, possess easy access to power and almost adequate lighting overhead, or the second of two double beds that had the size she needed but a surface little better than a trampoline. She chose the table. Some of her equipment would have to be placed on the floor for people to trip over as they answered the calls of nature and Colonel O'Neill.

She set up the boxy looking affair, hooking in wires to connect the various pieces and adding a cable or two to provide the electric juice to power the thing. She'd been looking forward to testing this particular device, although when designing it she had expected to transport it off-world rather than to Peyote. This was better, she reasoned; the thing weighed in at slightly over one hundred pounds altogether which would be a trifle troublesome to stuff into a backpack and carry through the StarGate. Transporting it on the MALP would be better, but that meant shuffling the MALP through the StarGate event horizon and babying the thing to get the data she needed. This particular piece of newly designed equipment was a scanner designed to search for naquedah, a mineral in scarce supply on Earth but used in most Goa'uld technology. The theory, Carter explained to her superiors, was that if Daniel had been snatched by the system lord Teknet to track down Teknet's cache of weapons, then she should be able to locate the archeologist by finding those naquedah-powered weapons herself, assuming that Daniel was correct in his belief that those naquedah-powered weapons were near Peyote.

There were other advantages to testing her scanner on Earth, the main one being a reliable source of power that came in a fairly standard voltage instead of needing to haul along a generator on the over-loaded MALP. Box number 3A was designed to remove any variation from that Earthly source, and she fed the electrons into the mess by plugging in the electrical cord into the outlet in the wall. Dials whirred.

One particular dial didn't. Carter grimaced, picked up a screwdriver, and attacked the back of Box 6B until the offending dial realized that it had better live up to its responsibilities if it wanted to continue to be part of her invention. Carter then tapped on a few more buttons, adjusted a lever or two, and peered at her results.

Nothing.

"Carter?" O'Neill rapped at the door, looking doubtfully at the Rube Goldberg device perched on the too small table.

"Not yet, sir." Carter's attention remained absorbed by her spanking new toy that had been hastily added to the load in the back of the SUV, crowding out the spot they had left for Daniel's books.

"'Not yet' as in 'you haven't found anything' or 'not yet' as in 'there's nothing to be found'?"

"I'm not sure, sir. I'm still trying to find that out."

"Oh." O'Neill surveyed the mechanical mess a moment longer. "I left you some pizza in the other room."

"Thank you, sir." Carter continued to poke at her toy.

"Teal'c and I are going to go out and see if we can find Daniel the old-fashioned way."

"Yes, sir."

"You'll wait here. We can call in." O'Neill tried to make it sound like an order. Just to remind himself that he was in charge. And that Carter was paying more attention to him instead of her doohickey.

"Yes, sir."

"Don't go anywhere."

"Yes, sir."

"Don't jump off a bridge."

"Yes, sir."

"There are no bridges in Peyote, Carter."

"Yes, sir."

"You're not listening to me, are you, Carter?"

"Yes, sir."

O'Neill quietly eased himself back out of the room.

* * *

"Fetch me the _tuvatka're_," the Goa'uld commanded.

Daniel froze. _That_ particular piece of twisted Goa'uld technology he remembered very well. Teknet had used it on him several months ago in an attempt to brainwash him. Teknet hadn't been successful, but only because the rest of SG-1 had intervened. Without them? Well, the SGC would have been calling him the First Scribe of Teknet. And then would zat him.

"It won't work," Daniel said bravely, wishing that his voice wasn't cracking with thirst, that the blindfold wasn't robbing him of a chance to glare at the Goa'uld. "You're wasting your time. Besides, there's no cold here to soften me up."

Teknet chuckled. It sounded particularly evil when accompanied by the cavernous tones of a Goa'uld, even with Teknet's voice pitched higher than most. "I do not require cold, little scribe."

"You can torture me all you want. I'll never give in. You'll never get the location of your devices."

"I think I will," Teknet purred, gliding up to his captive. Daniel could hear the footsteps mince forward, but he _felt_ the Goa'uld's hot breath as the host applied the twisted wire contraption to his skull.

It began at once. Unwanted thoughts seeped into his mind: _Teknet is your god. Teknet is your god._ They were quiet, almost unheard, and simple to ignore but Daniel knew that state of affairs wouldn't last long.

But if Teknet wasn't going to apply any other form of torture? Daniel could hold out for several days. It was only with a weakened victim, one whose mind was being assaulted in one form or another, that this Goa'uld technological toy would divert the human will in a matter of hours. The last time Teknet had tossed Daniel outside to freeze in the snow to facilitate the process. Daniel sniffed the hot dry air. A blizzard was outside the realm of possibility here in the desert.

_Teknet is your god. Teknet is your god_.

Teknet slipped behind him. "My toys," he whispered into Daniel's ear, his breath hot and heavy. "My devices. Where are they?"

"Go to hell. As soon as possible would be nice."

_Teknet is your god. Teknet is your god_.

Teknet licked the nape of Daniel's neck lasciviously, tracing the edge of his hair line with a single delicate finger. "Don't give in too easily, little scribe," he cooed. "I want to use you as you have never been used before. I want to feel you dance under my hands. Your screams will be as music to me." Teknet pushed in close behind his captive. Daniel could feel the rock hard parts of the Goa'uld host body pressing into him, promising more horror to come, and the Goa'uld's hands wandered over Daniel's chest, fondling the muscles there, tracing every line. Disgust filled him. He shuddered. _If I throw up, will he go away?_

_Teknet is your god. Teknet is your god_.

Hands suddenly pinched and twisted tender flesh, distracting Daniel from the struggle in his head. Daniel yelped, pulling at the ropes that lashed his hands to the posts, trying to get away, trying to escape from Teknet's ministrations. The ropes burned at his wrists, drawing blood, and he welcomed the pain as a respite from the _tuvatka're_.

"I haven't finished with you, scribe." Lusty pleasure was hot in the Goa'uld's voice. "Fight me! Fight me!" He suddenly plunged his hands deep into Daniel's skivvies, grasping the sensitive parts he found there. Daniel yelled and bucked, desperate to get away.

"More! More!"

_Teknet is your god! Teknet is your god!_

The voices in his head grew louder as Teknet's hands demanded a response from unwilling flesh. "Yield to me, scribe!" the Goa'uld crooned. "Give yourself to me! I am your god!"

"Go…to…hell!"

Teknet withdrew his hands and kissed Daniel tenderly on the shoulder. "Good," he whispered. "Don't make this too easy. We have plenty of time."


	6. Teknet's Treasure 6

A wise commander was Colonel O'Neill, Teal'c reflected. They had left MajorCarter to her work with her devices as the technique with which the scientist was most likely to succeed in locating DanielJackson and the cursed Goa'uld. Colonel O'Neill was on his way to the drinking establishment three blocks away from their temporary abode in this small community, and he had directed Teal'c to silently explore the perimeter of this civilization. Teal'c recalled the saying that was popular on Chulak: _ka'ree toboatho, massini'i tallow'no_. 'The hunter hunts, the baker bakes.' DanielJackson had compared it to the Tau're saying of 'to each, his own.'

As for Teal'c himself, the way the Jaffa was most likely to find DanielJackson was to hunt outside. Teal'c welcomed this opportunity to explore his adopted home world unencumbered by the need to remain hidden among the humans. Once out of sight of the town, the streetlights twinkling in the distance, he broke into a ground-eating trot, taking in all the small signs of life, looking for evidence that yet another non-Terrestrial life form was nearby.

The air cooled with the passage of the sun, and small insects whirled through the air to be swooped up by small flying things that O'Neill had identified for him as 'bats'. He heard the yipping of coyotes, the scurrying of jackrabbits trying to avoid the afore-mentioned coyotes, and the occasional hoot of a large feathered predator known as an owl. The plant life was erratic in this desert environment, leaving large areas of simple sand that hampered his travel not one bit. Large cactus loomed in the moonlight, warning him away from their spiked vicinity.

Two circuits in a distant diameter around the town, Teal'c decided, one larger than the next in a spiral pattern. That would be all that he would have time to accomplish before sunrise. Should he detect any evidence of the cursed Goa'uld, he would notify his commander for additional searching in that sector.

For hunting was what the Jaffa did best.

Besides killing.

* * *

"Yo, Lord." Daniel, still blindfolded, heard three girls kneel before the Goa'uld. One of the girls possessed a particularly nauseating form of a Bronx accent, and the other two twittered even more to make up the distance.

_Teknet is your god. Teknet is your god_.

Daniel felt the sweat drip down his forehead, shook his head to clear it. His mind was still his own, but he knew he was slowly losing this battle. Teknet was not using cold this time but Daniel's own body against him. He was so thirsty, so hungry. And so tired. Teknet had fondled him until Daniel had wanted to scream in rage, in disgust, had struggled against the ropes that held him until he now hung limply in simple exhaustion. Yet he knew that the Goa'uld was toying with him, deliberately holding the host body back, waiting for Daniel to crack. And that scared Daniel most of all.

_Teknet is your god. Teknet is your god_.

Daniel bit his lip. The pain would help drive the incessant little noise from his brain.

"We will do your will, lord." The simpering didn't sound forced but it did sound nauseating.

"Yes," Teknet commented serenely, "you will. Proceed. Amuse me."

Three sets of hands, these smaller than those of Teknet, began to cover Daniel's flesh, slipping beneath the scrap of clothing still left to him. Prodding. Pushing. Probing. Distracting him from the imperative of fighting against the _tuvatka're_. Nothing was particularly damaging to his body parts but the ego was taking a beating.

Then there was the shock as something painful jabbed into his side. Fire arced through him.

The scream was pitiful, the noise stolen by exhaustion. A second electric shock, and Daniel jerked in his bonds, fighting to escape the confining bonds. He groaned, a helpless cry of dismay. One of the girls giggled. "Can we stick this under his shorts, too, lord?"

"Of course, my children."

"Cool."

_Teknet is your god. Teknet is your god_.

* * *

O'Neill watched Teal'c disappear into the distance, but not without misgivings. The Jaffa could take care of himself, O'Neill knew, but there was always that sense of unease whenever he ventured out into the world of humans. The consequences of the alien being discovered were horrifying in their simplicity. Little chance of that in the desert outside of town, but still…

There was no better option. The most likely scenario was that Daniel had been snatched by that damn Goa'uld, in which case the rest of SG-1 could retrieve him in short order, or, if they took too long, they would be leaving important parts of the archeologist behind. Important parts like brains, free will, maybe a pound or two of flesh… O'Neill canned those thoughts. They didn't help at a time like this. He needed to concentrate.

The fingerprint on the door jamb belonged to a chick named Ginny Jones. Lt. Baker of Security had obtained a three year old picture of the girl from Missing Persons and forwarded it to him, and O'Neill could feel the paper burning a hole in his pocket. It was his only lead, and he would be able to see it through only with careful handling of the locals. Among themselves they would talk, but a stranger would be as welcome as a bear at a honey tree. O'Neill didn't want to get stung.

Inside the bar was dark with heavy cigarette smoke clotting the air, the jukebox barely heard over the murmured conversations. It was Thursday and the place was just shy of crowded, the townspeople getting an early start on the weekend. Even as he watched, the bartender slid another foaming stein of beer careening down the counter to land sudsily in front of a patron. O'Neill bellied up to the bar and ordered a cold one for himself. He didn't try to talk.

The bartender did that for him. "New in town?"

"Passing through." O'Neill took a judicious sip. There was a good chance of needing to drink his way through several over-size mugs, and O'Neill was determined to make each one last as long as possible while establishing himself as someone who didn't matter to this town. "Looking for someone."

The bartender showed his teeth. "Won't find him here. Nobody stays in Peyote."

O'Neill lifted his beer. "You do."

"Some of us don't take kindly to city life."

"That's the truth." O'Neill took a sip to signify agreement. "Don't care much for it myself."

But the bait had been taken. O'Neill could all but see the bartender's thoughts: cheap entertainment. Keep the stranger talking. "You said you're looking for a guy?"

"Girl, actually." O'Neill made no move to take out the picture.

"Good looker? She dump you?"

O'Neill snorted. "At my age? I don't go robbing cradles, guy."

"A kid, then."

"Old enough to know better. She's wanted."

"You a bounty hunter?"

"Nope. Air Force."

The bartender's interest got whetted. "Air Force, you say? Must be important. She steal something? Secret plans to the next spy plane? Maybe a spy herself?"

"Something like that," O'Neill admitted. "You got anybody passing through town lately, like in the last couple of days?" _Like yesterday? Like somebody with glowing eyeballs? You'd probably notice._ "Maybe didn't stop for the night? Got a little gas, a bite to eat, something like that."

The bartender shrugged. "Maybe somebody like that. Not just one kid, though. Bunch of 'em."

"Bunch? How many?" _Got a Goa'uld with 'em?_

The bartender shrugged again, and topped off O'Neill's mug without being asked. "Three of 'em, was all I saw. Skinny, like. Too skinny for my taste. City girls, betcha. Fancy type clothes that don't cover what they're supposed to." He leaned over to add confidentially, "they looked like some hooker-types with their pimp. Stewie over there thought they got run out of whatever city they came from, looking to set up a hooker house in a new town." He snorted. "Peyote sure as hell ain't gonna be big enough for them city types. Ain't got enough men here to keep 'em in business." He eyed O'Neill. "You said that girl stole government secrets?"

"Not quite, but close enough for government work." O'Neill knew better than to lie outright.

Still the bartender hesitated. "You don't look like no air force type."

O'Neill nodded sagely. "Uniforms tend to stand out. Don't really want her to run. Do the country a heck of a lot better just hauling her ass back for questioning." _Not just the country, but the whole planet. In case you're interested._

"How do I know you're really Air Force? The nearest Air Force Base is more than a hundred miles from here."

O'Neill let a sigh gust out, more for effect than anything else. He made a show of hauling his ID from his pocket, flashing it in front of the bartender's face. "That do?"

The bartender stared at it, as if memorizing the features for comparison to the real thing sitting on the stool next to the bar. He nodded, accepting the evidence. "You got a picture of her?"

_I thought you'd never ask_. O'Neill casually withdrew the black and white photo from his pocket and handed it over.

This time it only took one quick look. "That's her," the bartender affirmed. "That's one of 'em. The pimp guy, he was nothing to worry about. Looked like a stiff wind would blow him over. Probably why he got run out of town before this. Couldn't handle the big boys."

O'Neill nodded in satisfaction. "You know which way they headed?"

The bartender set his jaw. "You got a map?" And added righteously, "nobody steals from our boys in uniform and gets away with it. Not here. Not in Peyote."

God bless America.


	7. Teknet's Treasure 7

_Teknet is your god. Teknet is your god_.

Good points: he was no longer tied between two posts. Teknet and his harem were no longer distracting him, no longer fondling him. Not even poking him with that electrical zapper thing. He hadn't decided which was worse: the poking or the fondling. Or the giggling.

Bad points: the blindfold was still on, his hands were now tied behind him, and he was stumbling in the wake of the Goa'uld and his afore-mentioned harem, being tugged along by the rope that lay loosely but threateningly around his neck.

Really bad points: Daniel was fairly certain that Teknet had pulled out the general location of the cave where the Goa'uld technology lay hidden from the middle of several screams of "Teknet!" and "No! No! Get out of my head!" The trek across the burning hot desert sand seemed to suggest that this was the case even though the details by now were a bit blurry. Daniel knew that the desert was hot because the sand was burning into the soles of his bare feet: yet another really bad point. Burned feet didn't make for a fast getaway, if the opportunity arose. Not that he thought that it would. But it was nice to dream. Anything was better than trying to hop along the searing pebbles on the desert floor.

But that was another good point, he reminded himself. Pain was driving away the incessant droning in his head.

The _tuvatka're_ was still there, driving its message home: _Teknet is your god. Teknet is your god._ Daniel was still Daniel, but he didn't know how much longer he could hang on to his identity. How long had it been since he'd had food and water? And the incessant ministrations of Teknet's harem had prevented him from resting, from conserving what little strength he had left. He had finally figured out that they were poking him with a cattle prod. Hurt like a _shavuor'te_, to quote Teal'c on a bad day. Daniel stumbled, and went down to a knee. One of the girls behind him jerked on the rope around his throat and forced him back to the march. She giggled at his plight.

_Jack, where are you?_

_Teknet is your god. Teknet is your god_.

* * *

Teal'c stopped. 

What had alerted him? For his senses told him that the trail was hot, here, in this location. The air was still with leftover desert heat, the moon contributing nothing but light to his efforts, and in the distance a predatory animal gave voice to its frustration over failing to make its kill. Teal'c had no sympathy for the beast: it had failed, and deserved to seek its den with an empty belly. The world had little time for failures.

Teal'c had not failed. He had succeeded in locating signs of his prey. He knelt to examine the desert floor.

There, as his intuition had informed him, were tracks. Small, disappearing under the onslaught of the gentle breeze, sand drifting in to cover them, were tracks of several people foolish in the ways of nature. Not one knew how hide the trail. One had attempted to brush them away with a branch, but to Teal'c, who had learned to read such signs under Master Bra'tec, such efforts were only as if they had erected a Tau're neon sign that proclaimed 'this way'.

He looked closer, utilizing the moonlight to assess his enemy. The group moved as a whole, trampling in each other's path. There were more than four walkers, possibly as many as seven; it was difficult to discern with this careless a group. Several were female, as evidenced by the smaller strides. One was male, but a male who was not large. From the length of the step Teal'c surmised that the male was not even as tall as MajorCarter. Another was also male, and his steps stumbled. Here and there the imprint of a knee in the sand shone forth. Teal'c frowned; it was likely that he was close to discovering the whereabouts of DanielJackson. The size of the footprint was consistent with that of DanielJackson.

He pulled out the cell phone that O'Neill had pressed upon him should any one of SG-1 come upon information, but as he prepared to access the device, it vibrated in his hand. He almost dropped it with surprise, but, fumbling, unfolded the small instrument. He gave the signal that O'Neill taught him was appropriate in such situations: "Yo."

"Teal'c?"

"MajorCarter. I was about to summon you."

"No time for that now, Teal'c. I've found traces of naquedah. It must belong to Teknet's weapons cache. We need to meet. Where are you?"

"Approximately three kilometers northwest of the town. I have determined—"

"Good. That's the direction where my signal is strongest. I'll meet you there. Keep trying to get hold of Colonel O'Neill; I just tried, and the line is busy. I had to leave a voice mail, and you know how the colonel is about checking his messages. I'll meet you ASAP. Carter out."

Teal'c frowned at the device. He had understood it to be capable of two way communication, yet he feared that he had not adequately imparted his own information to MajorCarter. He sighed, and prepared to summon ColonelO'Neill on this Tau're cell phone. At least the major was joining him at this site, instead of insisting that he travel elsewhere. That would have been an inefficient use of time.

But before he could tap in the numerical code to contact ColonelO'Neill, the device vibrated yet again. Once more he opened it and uttered the appropriate salutation: "Yo."

"T? O'Neill here. Listen, the bartender in town just put me onto a line that we gotta follow up. Little place outside of town. Where are you?"

"Approximately three kilometers northwest of the town, O'Neill. MajorCarter—"

"Good, that's near where this guy said to go. I'll meet you there in ten. Listen, see if you can get hold of Carter, would you, big guy? She's not picking up. Thanks. O'Neill out." The line went dead.

Teal'c stared at the small device, the four bars of signal service winking cheerfully at him in the moonlight. Clearly this Tau're technology surpassed that of the Goa'uld in the field of communication. Teal'c had said not one word that would induce either ColonelO'Neill nor MajorCarter to rush to his side, yet both were presently en route to his location.

Truly remarkable.

* * *

Daniel cascaded to his knees, exhausted. His hands were shaking, or would have been if the rope tying them together was loose enough. Instead he had to make do with a head that swam with dizziness, praying not to throw up or fall over, wishing that the blindfold had slipped enough to let him see just a little bit. 

The air here was cooler, and he surmised that they had entered some sort of cave. The echo helped to clue him in. His heart sank. This was clearly where Teknet had stashed some of his toys several millennia ago. Obviously the Goa'uld had been able to piece together this location from the words torn from Daniel's throat.

_Teknet is your god. Teknet is your god_.

Daniel was heartily sick of it, sick of the _tuvatka're_, sick of Teknet's girls shocking him with the cattle prod, and disgusted by Teknet's lust. It was only a matter of time before Teknet decided to use Daniel's body for his own purposes, and Daniel devoutly hoped that his own mind would be destroyed by the _tuvatka're_ before that happened. He could think of nothing worse than to be assaulted by the Goa'uld. This superficial fondling by the host was bad enough, but what Teknet had in mind went beyond what any sane man should have to endure.

_All the Goa'ulds in the galaxy, and I get picked up by the one who hasn't a decent sex life in three thousand years, and is bisexual to boot. If I weren't so tired, I'd be laughing._

"This is it," Teknet breathed. "I have found the hiding place of my godly tools! They are here! I feel them!"

_No_, Daniel thought wearily, _you feel the naquedah. You're sensitive to it, snake. At least get that part right._

_Teknet is your god. Teknet is your god_.

_Teknet is a damn idiot_.

"Bring him," Teknet ordered. Daniel crawled back to his feet, trying to hurry so that whichever girl held his leash wouldn't choke him on the way up. "Spread out," the Goa'uld then demanded. "Find my things!"

"Yes, lord!" The girls scattered.

Which left Daniel with the Goa'uld. Teknet walked up to him. Daniel wondered briefly if he would be able to kick the Goa'uld where it would do the most good and then run, but dismissed the idea. Hands tied behind his back? Feet burned to a crisp? Barely able to walk without falling over?

_Teknet is your god. Teknet is your god_.

He forced himself to stand stock still as Teknet ran mock-gentle hands over his chest. From the feel of it, Teknet was still in the short and swarthy host body that he had taken when Daniel had first met him. Squirming would only make it worse, make Teknet a happy Goa'uld. Daniel bit his lip, fighting not to move. The _tuvatka're_ itched across his skull.

"You are mine, little one," the Goa'uld crooned. _Little one? Crazy Goa'uld_. Teknet's host body was a good six inches shorter than Daniel. "I have desired you since first I laid eyes upon you." _Crap. This is _so_ not good for yours truly_. "You have been honored by my gaze, and soon I shall take what is rightfully mine. And you shall rejoice in the pleasure that you give me! What, still trembling, little one?"

_Teknet is your god. Teknet is your god_.

"I must take you soon," Teknet mused. "I wish to know the fire that beats in your heart, the fire that I am extinguishing." He slid his hands down to Daniel's skivvies, squeezing and fondling. "You will fight me, scribe, before you give me your soul." He slipped his fingers ever closer, slipping his fingers under the waistband.

Daniel couldn't stand it. He wrenched himself away, toppling over onto the stone hard floor of the cave, retching violently.

Teknet laughed. And then giggled. It was not a sane sound.

_Teknet is your god. Teknet is your god. Teknet will save you_.

NO!

* * *

Hand signals flashed: _Teal'c, circle left. Carter, right. At my signal, we go in together from both back and front_. O'Neill didn't need to add _be careful_. They were dealing with a Goa'uld. That went without saying. 

It was a ramshackle old homestead that had been abandoned sometime in the previous century. The porch had collapsed long ago, taking the two-seater swing down with it. The windows were boarded up, and O'Neill couldn't see any light between the cracks. Could it be empty? Not good. Better: everyone was asleep with the lights off. No electricity, no lights. Save any battery light for early evenings when it was needed. It was what O'Neill would have done. O'Neill really didn't want the place to be empty. He wanted it to be filled with an archeologist, a runaway or two, and a has-been Goa'uld waiting for a whuppin'.

Teal'c had pointed out the tracks that led to this place, a multitude of smallish feet almost any one of which could have belonged to the runaway Ginny Jones. O'Neill started counting down from ten, giving his team the time they needed to get into position.

Six. Five.

Still no lights. Still no sounds.

Four. Three.

No snoring, either. O'Neill sidled onto the creaky porch without a sound, placing himself next to the door, snub-nose revolver in hand.

Two. One.

O'Neill broke down the door with one kick. "Go! Go!" he yelled, sensing more than hearing the other two ram in the back entrance.

Nothing.

O'Neill quickly darted his flash over the area. There was a pile of clothes scattered in one corner, empty fast food wrappers tossed over the floor—but no people. No Daniel. No runaway Ginny Jones. No glowing eyes.

"Secure, sir." Carter couldn't quite keep the disappointment from her voice.

O'Neill knew how she felt. "Haul out the lanterns, major," he ordered. "Let's see what this place can tell us."

It wasn't much. O'Neill surveyed the results dismally. There were ropes hanging from the rafters, ropes that had recently been cut and that had blood on them. O'Neill feared that that blood belonged to Daniel, but it wasn't enough to say that the man was dead. _Might be better off if he was_. O'Neill knew what Teknet had tried to do to Daniel before, what the Goa'uld had already done to a member of SGC that he had successfully brainwashed several months ago. Daniel would rather die.

"These are his clothes, colonel." Carter picked up a jacket, folded it, and then a pair of pants. "It's what he was wearing the night that he was taken."

"Any—?"

"Torn, but no blood," Carter said quickly. "His shoes are here as well."

"Teknet was always kind of kinky," O'Neill recalled grimly. _Crap. Daniel's clothes in this shack means that he's wandering around in the elements stark naked. No protection from the sun, the wind, the desert… or the Goa'uld. _"Keeps wanting Daniel in the all together," O'Neill snarled. "All right, there's nothing more in here. Let's look around outside for any place they might have gone."

"O'Neill!" Teal'c sounded the alarm. "A vehicle approaches!"

"Douse the lights!" O'Neill ordered immediately.

Best thing in the world: the Goa'uld and his minions—_gaah, there's that word again_—were coming back. O'Neill and Teal'c went for either side of the door, Carter behind a turned over table, peeping out around the side. There was almost no light; even the moonlight had a hard time getting in past the boarded up windows.

They heard the vehicle grind to a halt outside, O'Neill blessing the fact that SG-1 had approached on foot. There was nothing outside to notify the Goa'uld's band that anything was amiss.

But the people outside were definitely on alert, and O'Neill couldn't figure out why. From the outside the place looked exactly as they had found it. Yet these people were creeping up on the place almost as SG-1 had. O'Neill heard the _scritch scritch_ of shoes against sand as one person sidled around to the back. There were more out front.

They waited, adrenaline pumping. The door inched open, and the snub-nose end of a pistol nudged it further so that a short-haired head could peep through.

O'Neill put his own snub-nose to the short-haired head. "Move, and you're dead," he hissed.

The head froze. "Colonel O'Neill?"

O'Neill's own trigger finger halted. "Vincent? That you?"

"Yes, sir. Major Vincent, reporting in." The man paused. "Uh, can I call out to Banner and Croft, sir? Before they break the back door down?"

"Go ahead, major. It's already been broken in once tonight." O'Neill gestured in acquiescence, putting the pistol back into its holster. Tension leaked away. He straightened up. "What are you doing here, major? Does the general know, I hope?"

"Yes, sir. We're here with his blessing, sir. And Colonel Lassiter's."

"This sounds good." O'Neill eased back, motioning for Carter and Teal'c to come off alert and to fire up the lanterns again. He took a good look at the major and his sergeants. One corner of his mouth quirked upward. "You came all the way out here to tell me that Lassiter is gonna pull through?"

"Yes, sir. I mean, no sir, that's not why we came." Major Vincent looked around the one room shack. "Did you find Dr. Jackson, sir?"

"Doesn't look like it, major."

"Yes, sir. Well, sir, the colonel—Colonel Lassiter, sir—and General Hammond suggested that me and the boys might owe Dr. Jackson an apology." Vincent looked acutely uncomfortable. "You might say the colonel insisted on it."

O'Neill hid the crooked smile that wanted to creep into view. "Ripped you a new one, major?"

"Yes, sir. And sounds like we deserved it, sir." Vincent went to the back door. "Banner, Croft. Front and center."

The three of them faced SG-1 and tossed off a crisp salute. "SG-12 awaiting your orders, sir."


	8. Teknet's Treasure 8

He would have preferred it if his sight wasn't so blurry from exhaustion, lens still perched firmly on his nose or not. The box that the three girls toted in at Teknet's behest was large and heavy and covered with Goa'uld writing. If Daniel had been closer, he would have tried to decipher the lettering, never mind how tired he was. It called to him like a flame called to a moth.

Though he was still too close to Teknet by half a league. The Goa'uld had shepherded the group into a cavernous area of the rock face that had probably served Teknet as his throne room several millennia ago when he ruled this parcel of land. That time had long passed, and the furniture he left behind showed the neglect. Shreds of cloth had deteriorated into strands of dirt, and one arm of the carven chair that Teknet pounced on delightedly had fallen off sometime last century. Large chiseled boulders served as chairs and tables for the rest of his followers. A number of jewels hung on tattered strings in one corner were all that was left of the necklaces and bracelets that Teknet had extorted from his ancient followers. There were chiseled out holds for torches, and Teknet used these as he had in the old days. The flames danced and flickered, sending erratic shadows across all the faces.

Daniel coughed, wishing the air wasn't so stale and musty. It had been two days since taking any of Frasier's specially designed anti-histamine cocktail, and the last thing Daniel wanted to add to his misery was sneezing. It lacked elegance to be escaping from a Goa'uld while hacking and wheezing.

_Teknet is your god. Teknet is your god_.

He would put up with the sneezing, though, if only he could get out of here.

_Teknet will care for you. Teknet will care for you. Teknet is your god._

_No!_ Daniel ground his wrists into the rocks onto the ground, hoping the pain would help distract him away from the _tuvatka're_ on his head. The damn thing was starting to get hold of his thoughts. It had taken more than a day—had he been in Teknet's clutches that long?—but it was finally getting the upper hand. Daniel didn't have much time. The thought of spending the rest of his days with three giggling twits and a horny snake appealed to him not at all. He looked around: not even any convenient cliff faces to throw himself off of.

Teknet lifted a wide bracelet from the chest. The thing looked old, covered with a green patina. Here and there a speck of bright copper shone through with a symbol that Daniel couldn't quite make out. "Come to me, GinnyJones," Teknet intoned. "Come to your god."

Daniel stared in horror as one of the girls detached herself from the group and knelt before the Goa'uld, her eyes shining.

_Teknet is your god. Teknet will care for you_.

"You're really cool, lord," she said, looking up at him. "You honor me."

"Yes," Teknet agreed, "I do." He took her gently by the chin, lifting her head. "I shall make you my First Prime, to follow no other but me. I give you this honor as a great gift." He clasped the bracelet over her forearm.

Ginny gasped in sudden pain and doubled over. "Shit!" she screamed. She sank to the cold stone floor, writhing in agony.

Teknet was unperturbed. "The discomfort will cease, First Prime," he said.

First Prime? Daniel had never heard of a woman First Prime. Women were by no means second class citizens among the Jaffa, but a Goa'uld would look for size and strength, and this little runaway possessed neither. What was Teknet thinking?

Whatever it was, Teknet knew his technology. Ginny sat up, the tears forgotten, the pain gone and a sudden smile on her face. She held up her arm with the copper bracelet and admired it. "Wow! Lord! This is _way_ cool! I'm gonna enjoy this thing."

"As you should," Teknet agreed. "You shall be the First among the Three." Daniel could even hear the capitals when the Goa'uld spoke. "Let your sisters approach."

Not good. Teknet bestowed similar bracelets upon the other two runaways, clasping each around a skinny arm with the same ceremony that Ginny had received. Neither one hesitated, even when the pain began. It was over in minutes.

_Teknet is your god. Give him thanks and praise_.

_Give him a swift kick in the butt_. But Daniel knew the _tuvatka're_ thoughts were becoming more intrusive. Despairing, he felt the urge to crawl to the Goa'uld's feet and worship him. He stifled it; give in just once and he wasn't certain that he could regain himself. _Jack, where are you?_

_Teknet will care for you. Teknet will save you._

But Teknet hadn't finished with the girls. "Approach me, First Prime," he commanded. He glanced over at Daniel, who recoiled at the naked hunger in the Goa'uld's face. "No, I have not forgotten you, Scribe. Soon it will be your place to pleasure me, though not yet. But for the moment," and again he lifted the chin of the tiny girl kneeling before him, "I burn. Service me, First Prime."

"Yo, lord. I'd like that."

There was something different about Ginny. Daniel struggled to determine what it was. She now moved with more grace, her actions faster than they had been. She spread a meager cloth upon the hard stone surface of the cave before removing her own clothing, and then Daniel saw more clearly what had happened. In moments her skinny arms had grown muscles that a Jaffa woman would have been proud of. They weren't the size of Teal'c's, but with the bracelet to stimulate her reactions, Daniel didn't doubt that the First Prime of Teknet would be able to best the former First Prime of Apophis. Especially with the element of surprise behind her.

And now Teknet had three of them.

_Teknet is your god. Teknet is lord of the universe_.

"Teknet is my god. Teknet is my god," Daniel repeated obediently, to his horror. "Teknet is my god." He bit his lip. The _tuvatka're _was winning.

The twisted wires upon his forehead gleamed in triumph.

* * *

"How much further, Carter?" O'Neill tried to keep the irritability out of his voice, but he couldn't help feeling that time was running out. It was nearing daybreak, and they still hadn't found Daniel. The archeologist had now been in Teknet's hands for more than thirty-six hours. Who knew what tortures the Goa'uld was putting him through? Teknet wanted his toys, and the fastest way to the treasure was through Daniel.

"I don't know, sir." It wasn't what O'Neill wanted to hear. "I haven't been able to triangulate a signal. I get it in this direction, but when I move the equipment to another location I get no response what so ever." Carter slapped Box 5B petulantly. O'Neill stared; he'd never seen Carter do that. But she shrugged. "Worth a try. It worked on the cordless drill at home."

O'Neill needed answers. He turned to Teal'c.

"The trail leads in this direction, O'Neill," the Jaffa said. "However, I too cannot discern the distance. I can only follow where the footprints lead. But I grow concerned." He pointed to a spot on the sand that looked a bit darker than the rest, although in the dusk of approaching dawn O'Neill couldn't be certain that it wasn't a shadow instead. "Here. This person fell to his knees yet again, and left blood behind. He weakens. The others drag him forth."

"Daniel?"

"Possibly. The evidence is not adequate to say, but it is likely."

O'Neill was getting desperate. The trio from SG-12 was next.

Major Vincent threw up his hands. "Not us, colonel. We're the hired muscle. Just tell us where to go, and who to pound."

But Carter interrupted. "I can't be sure, but I think that the signal's getting stronger." She pointed ahead of them. "There. In that direction."

"Caves," O'Neill noted. "Honkin' big caves." He sighed tiredly. "At least it isn't trees."

* * *

There was no ceremony, no foreplay, no ritual. Ginny simply lay herself nakedly on the dirty cloth spread upon the cold cave floor and opened herself to the Teknet, servicing the host to pleasure the Goa'uld within, the others looking on and wondering if they too could get in on the action.

_Teknet is my god. Teknet is—_

Daniel broke off in fear. The _tuvatka're _was winning; his mind was giving in to the incessant drone of Teknet's will. He had to get away, to get the Goa'uld device off of his skull.

And this was the time. This was it. They all became involved in Teknet's act, trying their best to enact a scene out of a Bacchanalian orgy. Clothes were flung onto the stone floor, and all three girls went at the Goa'uld, grunting and groaning with an occasional shout punctuating the lusty action. They all ignored the tied-up man in the corner with the brain-washing wires on his head.

Not completely tied up. Daniel's ankles were free, the better to walk across the desert with. The bare soles were burned and sore, but right now that didn't matter. He struggled quietly to his feet.

_Teknet is your god. Teknet is your god_.

_Shut up_, Daniel told the _tuvatka're_ irritably. _It's now or never_. He inched his way to the wall, feeling behind him with benumbed hands, the sensation dimmed by lack of circulation. He stumbled, righted himself without falling, and continued toward the exit. Behind him the moans and grunts continued. Daniel silently urged them to keep it up. Those bracelets do anything for stamina and endurance?

_Teknet is your god. Teknet is your god._

_Teknet is my god. Teknet is my—no, he's not!_

A pebble dug itself into his foot. He quashed the yelp and held himself still for a long moment, willing the pain to go away before anyone noticed what he was doing, leaning against the wall and trying not to fall over.

_Teknet is your god. Teknet is your god_.

_Teknet is a pain in the ass_. He grimaced. _And that will be literally, if I don't get out of here._ One step, one more step, and the exit was his. Another rock knifed into his sole, but the triumph overcame it. He was out of their sight! Three long strides, and he was at the other end of this cave. One more room, three more flickering torches to pass, and he'd be out into the open air. Once there he could rub his head against the rock wall to scrape this damn _tuvatka're_ off of his skull before the thing could addle his thoughts enough to turn Daniel back into Teknet's arms. Then he'd run. It wouldn't matter how badly his feet hurt him as long as they took him away from here. The lusty grunting continued behind him. A long drawn out groan of pleasure followed.

Then an angry shout.

_Damn_.

Daniel abandoned caution to the wind and ran. Pain lanced through his feet with every step, but he ignored it. He could escape now or start answering to the name of 'Scribe', self-will not included. He flew through the final cavern and out into the open air, dirt and sand scattering in his wake. _Never knew how hard it was to run with your hands tied behind your back._

He stumbled out. It was just starting toward dawn, a dark purple on the horizon. East, then. Daniel didn't care which direction as long as it was away from Teknet and his followers.

_Teknet is your god. Teknet is your god_.

Fear made it easy to ignore the _tuvatka're_, the adrenaline driving the unwanted thoughts from his brain. He faltered as a rock slipped out from underneath his foot. He heard them behind him, didn't dare spend the time looking over his shoulder to see them gaining on him. Escape _now!_

A tiny hand grabbed his shoulder and wrenched him around. This was the little runaway? It felt like Teal'c—

Ginny flung him effortlessly into the air. He crashed against the rock wall and slid down.

Daniel stared dazedly up at the girl. Ginny spread white teeth. The copper bracelet gleamed in the starlight. Then she lifted him up bodily with one hand and shook him like a terrier with a rat, just to prove that she could. She grinned again, and winked.

"How do you like my new bracelet? A real kick in the pants, isn't it?"

_Crap_.

* * *

Teal'c held up his hand to halt the small band.

O'Neill came up beside the Jaffa. "T?"

"Shouts," the Jaffa reported, "from the cave area."

"Daniel's?"

"I do not believe so. The voices are feminine."

"It could be the runaway, the Jones girl," Vincent offered.

"Or it could be the local girl scout troop on a camp out toasting marshmallows," O'Neill said dryly.

"At this hour? It's four in the morning."

"Okay, so they're having fun in their pajamas. The point is, we don't want to go in and terrify an innocent bunch of civilians. We go slow, figure out just exactly what's there. This is Earth, after all. Got it?" O'Neill divided the group back into its original teams. "Major Vincent, I'll take SG-1 in first. Give us five, then follow and do whatever seems the best idea at the moment."

"Yes, sir."

"Carter, Teal'c, you're with me. Let's take it easy."

"You really think this a girl scout troop, sir?" Carter couldn't keep the incredulity from her voice.

"I've been wrong before, Carter. It'll happen again. But I'd really like to keep the SGC image as good as it can be, and a minute or two to make sure that we're not pulling guns on a bunch of little girls with cookies won't make any difference to Daniel. Flank me. And keep your eyes open." O'Neill pulled out his pistol and started forward.

* * *

If he didn't know about the bracelets, Daniel knew about them now. Goa'uld technology had given each girl the strength of ten men, and the speed of a striking cobra. Daniel now knew how the Goa'uld forced their host bodies into such phenomenal feats of strength, but it would do him no good unless he was able to escape and right now that didn't seem like a realistic scenario.

Ginny held him with one arm kinked lazily around his neck, pulling him so far off balance that without her he would have fallen. Daniel didn't bother to struggle. If Ginny couldn't handle him, then the other two surely could. He was finished.

_Teknet is your god. Teknet is your god_.

This was the end. Jack O'Neill wouldn't be coming over the hill on a white steed to rescue him, and there wouldn't be any faithful Jaffa downing his enemies with a single blow. Carter's electronic gizmos hadn't done the trick this time. It was over.

_Teknet is your god. Teknet is your god_.

Daniel squeezed his eyes shut. "Teknet is my god," he whispered. "Teknet is my god."

He sensed rather than saw the magnificent creature that was his god approach him, and he trembled. Rough hands peeled back his eyelids, and a dark face stared closely at his. Daniel didn't fight him, didn't protest the foul breath coming at him. This was his god, come to gaze upon his worthless servant.

"Now," declared Teknet to his harem. "I must hurry. I must take him now, before his mind is gone entirely. I want him to fight me, to dance under me, to know that his god is all-powerful. Bring him forth!"

Ginny and the other two hauled Daniel's staggering form into the innermost chamber where the torches still burned. A small part of Daniel categorized it as the place of ritual and noted the writing on the cave walls but the rest of him was dead and uninterested. Teknet had no use for that part of his new scribe, so it ceased to matter, ceased to exist for Teknet's servant.

_Teknet is your god. Teknet is your god_.

_No!_ Daniel bit his lip, hoping to drive the thoughts from his head. _Teknet is a Goa'uld, and a parasite, and a royal pain in the ass._

_Crap. That was _so_ not a good thought._

"There," Teknet pointed out. "That one. That was my table of worship, where many before you came and offered your worthless flesh that I might honor you with my gifts. Place him there, First Prime. Bend him over the table, as was done so long ago." He giggled, and sighed. "It has been such a very long time." He licked his lips. "I burn."

It wasn't a table, but a large boulder that nature had placed inside the cave, worn smooth with centuries of use. Ginny leaned him over the top surface, pinning his hands in front of him so that he couldn't interfere with Teknet's plans. Daniel tried to pull away, and Ginny, giggling like her Goa'uld lord, merely tightened her grip until he thought his wrist bones were about to shatter.

_Snap out of it, Jackson. Your body may not be about to die, but your mind sure is. Fight!_

Another pulled his legs apart, casually pushing the remaining shreds of clothing down his legs, throwing all modesty to the winds. A slender thread of cool air wafted along to tease his flesh. The position wasn't as bad as he had feared: mankind had grown considerably taller over the last century or two, and Teknet's altar/table was substantially lower than was comfortable for modern man. But the rock was damn cold, and the level of exposure was enough to make his future seem very dim.

Teknet sauntered around to the front to examine him, to enjoy the effect that incarceration was having on his victim. The Goa'uld grasped his hair, pulling Daniel up to see his face. He giggled.

"Go to hell!" Daniel gasped, trying to work up enough spit to throw at his captor. Useless; he was too dehydrated. But it amused Teknet.

"So, my little one isn't finished yet," he crooned, tracing a finger along Daniel's chin. "Soon. Soon. But first you must fight me. I want you to scream my name, to curse me, as I use your flesh for my pleasure."

"I can start the curses right now," Daniel offered sincerely. "Just say the word."

Teknet giggled. "There. I knew you weren't too far gone. Let us begin." He moved back around the boulder, out of Daniel's line of sight. Delicate hands touched Daniel's buttocks, assessing the moments to come. Daniel couldn't help the shudder of fear. Teknet murmured wordlessly in anticipation.

_This won't be any worse than a Frasier special, and I've had plenty of those_, Daniel told himself. _I can take this. I can hang on until help comes. I can fool Teknet into believing_—

Daniel bit his lip to keep from yelping as Teknet began his exploration with deceptively gentle hands.

_Frasier special. Frasier special._

_Teknet is your god. Teknet is your god._

_Frasier special. This is only a Frasier special. Don't move, don't struggle, don't give Teknet what he wants so that he'll go away and leave me alone. Frustrate the hell out of him. Jack, I could really use a rescue right about now. Any chance of that?_

The probing fingers fell away, and Daniel remembered to breathe. _That wasn't so bad. I can take that without str—Yow!_

The grunt came out unbidden, and Teknet giggled in response. Another grunt followed; there was suddenly some serious pain going on back there under Teknet's newly demanding fingers. Phase Two of Teknet's grand design to make Daniel insane had begun with a vengeance. Daniel tried to pull away, but there was nowhere to go. He was securely held against Teknet's altar by the three Goa'uld enhanced teen-age girls.

"Dance, little one! Dance under my fingers! Fight me!"

_Frasier special. Breathe. Don't struggle, you'll only make it worse._

_Teknet is your god. Teknet is your god! Teknet is your god!_

The _tuvatka're_ got louder. He couldn't take it; parts of his body started throbbing in time with the unwanted thoughts being pushed into his brain. Vision wobbled. "Shut up!" Daniel yelled. It was too much; he couldn't fight both the _tuvatka're_ and Teknet's lustful assault at the same time.

"More!" Teknet insisted, giggling. He moved closer, and Daniel could feel the host's own needs rock hard against the back of his thighs. Daniel writhed in terror, helpless to escape from the young girls holding him down, Teknet's caresses becoming more demanding. The Goa'uld was terrifying in his intensity. "More! More! Fight me!"

_Teknet is your god. Teknet is your god._

_Teknet is **my** god._

Teknet giggled insanely The _tuvatka're_ pulsated.

Daniel's mind shut down.


	9. Teknet's Treasure 9

The three slipped into the cave, waiting only a brief moment or two for eyes to adjust to the diminished light. What they saw only reassured them that they were on the right path.

To the untrained eye it appeared to be a ritual place for some long forgotten American Indian tribe. Blankets that hadn't yet fallen into complete piles of dust were carelessly tossed into one corner, broken pottery into another. Rats had gotten into some of the cached food stuffs and the leftover bones had been dragged here and there across the floor, the marrows gnawed away.

The walls contained crude drawings of a figure and his followers, the figure clearly larger than life not only in his arms and legs but in other important parts of his anatomy. O'Neill had no doubt that this was Teknet's self-image, and that thought was confirmed when Teal'c pointed out the Goa'uld symbol for the system lord.

Time for silent hand signals: O'Neill's fingers wiggled. _Anyone home?_

Teal'c: _I believe so, O'Neill. There is faint noise from within_.

Carter: _My naquedah mini-detector is showing some naquedah further back in the cave. Just remember, sir, that this is a smaller version of a proto-type, and may not be accurate._

O'Neill: unprintable reply, showing what he thought of Carter's disclaimer and what unwavering faith he had in her ability to construct miraculous weapons and techie-toys out of paper clips and sealing wax.

Carter: _thank you, sir. I hope your confidence in me isn't misplaced_.

O'Neill: _for Daniel's sake, it better not be_.

Carter: gulp.

* * *

"No!" Teknet screeched. "No! No! No! No! No!"

If Carter had been there to watch, she would have made a comparison between the Goa'uld's behavior and that of her nephew at age two. The similarity was striking.

The object of Teknet's displeasure was in no position to enjoy his adversary's distress. Daniel lay in a boneless heap on the cold floor of the cave, oblivious to everything around him. Eyes stared sightlessly at the wall, lighting, as it were, on a crude stick figure drawing of Teknet in all his supposed glory: a halo around the Goa'uld's head and around the parts of his body that Teknet fondly supposed were of great interest to his long-deceased followers and his current harem. Daniel, however, seemed unaware of the glory in front of him either posted on the cave wall or in the flesh.

Not so the trio of girls attending the erstwhile system lord. Ginny and the others fluttered around, horrified that their lord should be so distraught, seeking ways to succor him that they hadn't already tried. Another round of sex with the girls wasn't going to be good enough. Teknet wanted to do it to his new First Scribe instead, and his First Scribe was _so_ not cooperating. The First Scribe had simply _collapsed_ right before Teknet was about to put it to him. It just wasn't going to be any _fun_ if the Tau're didn't resist!

"Take it _off_ of him!" Teknet shrieked. "He must not be ruined! He is to be my _First Scribe_, and I've gone to a lot of _trouble_ to acquire him! I don't _want_ him like this! He's supposed to be able to _fight_ me! How can I _enjoy_ him if he doesn't _fight_ me?" The host's body parts went limp with dismay, and that dismay was shared with the three runaways.

"Yes, lord." Ginny, the brightest of the bunch, understood her lord to mean that the _tuvatka're_ was to be removed from the First Scribe. Ignoring the hissing sparks that the device emitted at her touch, she ripped it off of Daniel's forehead. Daniel didn't flinch.

"A hand jewel," Teknet muttered wildly. "I must have the hand jewel, to restore my little scribe. There must be a hand jewel among my things." He straightened. "Attend me, First Prime. _Attend me!_ You will find my hand jewel immediately!"

"Way to go, lord," the girls chorused, following the Goa'uld into the inner cave where he had put his technological wonders some three thousand years earlier. Daniel they left sprawled on the floor of the cave, senseless. The soon-to-be First Scribe wasn't going anywhere.

* * *

Teal'c's Jaffa ears were better than any human's, and O'Neill knew it. So when Teal'c held up his hand in an alert, O'Neill paid attention. He raised his eyebrows in a silent question.

Teal'c nodded gravely. Hand signals flashed: _inside this inner cave_.

Eyebrow wiggle: _Daniel?_

A frown: _I am not certain, O'Neill, but perhaps. The noises are quiet, and I hear movement but no voices._

Carter: _how many inside?_

Teal'c: _at least three, including the Goa'uld, cursed be he. Possibly more. I hear only one set of steps that could belong to a male_. Which was pretty impressive verbiage for mere hand signals, Carter thought. It was amazing how much communication could be achieved with just a few fingers, although she didn't think that the gesture Teal'c used to refer to the Goa'uld was standard in the military lexicon. Rather, it looked to be something that O'Neill had taught him during driving lessons outside the base.

_All right, we go in quietly_, O'Neill ordered silently. _Teal'c, point. Carter, take the six. SG-12 will be on our tails in five._

But again Teal'c held up his hand to stop them: _They pass by. One, two—all have left the cave, perhaps to go deeper within_. He listened further. _One remains at a distance, but he is quiet and still. I hear his breath._

_Daniel?_

An eloquent shrug was Teal'c's response. O'Neill sighed: _let's go._

It didn't take long. O'Neill peered around the rock face and saw the archeologist crumpled against a large boulder, naked and streaked with blood. O'Neill held his own breath until he saw the gentle rise and fall of Daniel's chest. Whatever else, his civilian team member was alive. First things first.

O'Neill poked his head out cautiously, scanning the area for Goa'ulds or minions. Empty. Once again hand signals sufficed: the three spread out in the room, P-90's at ready to take down whatever or whoever needed shooting. But, except for Daniel, the place was empty.

Even _with_ Daniel present, the place was empty. The lights were on, but nobody was home inside Daniel's head.

"Daniel?" O'Neill hissed. "Daniel, snap out of it."

Daniel never was very good at following the colonel's orders.

Carter rummaged in her pack, pulling out her first aid kit and opening up a vial of ammonia. "He's bleeding from his wrists," she noted, "and he's got some burn marks on his forehead."

"Just like that brainwashing thingy that Teknet used on him before," O'Neill agreed, trying to keep his anger under control. "Anyone want to bet that the snake didn't use it again?"

"It would be poor strategy to accept that offer, ColonelO'Neill—"

"What say we get him out of here?" O'Neill interrupted in a whisper. "What do we do about Teknet?"

Carter glanced around. "Assuming this place has no back door, colonel, I could easily blow the entrance to this cave and lock Teknet inside. That would keep him under control until we could get more troops out here to deal with him."

"I think I like that plan, major. I usually like plans with things that go boom. C'mon, Daniel," O'Neill said to the unresponsive man, grabbing one shoulder, "let's get you out of here." He hoisted Daniel to his feet, not liking the way Daniel's head lolled helplessly against his shoulder. "Where's SG-12? Some more muscle would be welcome."

"Will we do?" asked a sweet, high-pitched voice.

O'Neill whipped around. The owner of the voice was a small and slender girl who looked barely able to call herself twenty-one. Twenty was the actual number, O'Neill knew, because he'd seen the missing child report on her filed four years earlier: Virginia Jones. The size of the girl and the other two behind her suggested that they weren't capable of lifting anything more than a wallet, but their expressions said otherwise. And considering that they were each wearing a copper bracelet on their arms that was covered with Goa'uld script which O'Neill couldn't read but he had no doubt that Daniel could if he were in any condition to read and would have told him spelled 'trouble' with a capital T, O'Neill decided not to take Ginny up on her offer.

"No thanks. We'll take him from here. Pun intended."

"Nah. Lord Teknet kind of likes him. Me, I don't see all that much in him, but he's only a scribe. We'll kind of squash him into place and make him do as he's told."

"Good luck," O'Neill said, thinking of all the times that he wished that he could make Daniel do as he was told.

"You'll need it," Ginny said, and the battle was on.

Having no better option, O'Neill let Daniel slide to the floor in time to throw up an arm to block Ginny's wild punch. Despite the block, the blow staggered him. Damn, but this kid ate her Wheaties! Even Carter, working out every day, couldn't deliver a whammy this powerful. Clearly Goa'uld technology at work, as if he hadn't guessed. O'Neill desperately ducked another punch, grateful for his own training. Ginny had the power but not the finesse. All he had to do was to keep ducking, and keep from getting hit—_wham!_

He saw stars. Fake ones, the kind that danced around in your vision until they cleared away or someone took pity on you and put you out all together. He couldn't tell where Ginny had hit him—the pain hadn't caught up with him yet—but guessed that it was somewhere in the head area to have rattled him so. Good; that meant no damage. Now, if only Ginny would wait until his wits were straight again, he'd be ready to continue the battle.

Samantha Carter had never relied on brute force. As a woman in a man's world, that simply wouldn't work. Cunning, guile, speed: those were the attributes that she had developed. They had worked for a very long time. They were working now.

Until her opponent chose to simply soak up everything Carter could throw at her, and back her up against the cave wall. After that, it was merely a matter of a bear hug. The girl could barely make her skinny arms reach around Carter, but that didn't matter to the waif. She simply squeezed tighter, choking the breath out of Carter, until her hands met in the middle. Carter felt a rib crack.

For his own part, Teal'c felt confusion. His upbringing, his recent experiences, and his situation were at war with each other. His training on Chulak at the hands of Master Bra'tec had taught him speed and power; he had been the deadliest of Apophis' Jaffa, and had gloried in his excellence. But since seeking a home among the Tau're, he had worked diligently to acquire the mannerisms of his adopted people which told him very clearly not to battle women and children no matter what the provocation. That girls such as these were weak, as were most of the Tau're women—MajorCarter a notable exception—and that Teal'c should strive to protect them as he would his own family.

Teal'c's technique in battling the Tau're warriors in training sessions back at the SGC was to simply overwhelm any opponent with power and, should his opponent demonstrate even a modicum of strength, then Teal'c's own speed would always bring him victory. The only Tau're who could routinely score against him was O'Neill. That, Teal'c didn't mind, for O'Neill was O'Neill. There was no shame in being bested by such a warrior.

But this _child_ in front of him didn't follow any of the rules. She stood there, laughing, as Teal'c went flying back against the cave wall when she kicked him with a strike so incompetent that it should have done nothing to her opponent. Teal'c's return blow that should have done the same thing to her merely caused her to take a single step back. Then she struck him almost in the sac containing his symbiote, causing the Goa'uld larvae inside to rumble unhappily. Teal'c doubled over.

"Enough!" There was something about the echoing Goa'uld voice inside a cave, O'Neill decided dizzily, that made the single word sound very impressive. Of course, having the three little girls who were whupping his team unmercifully stop fighting was also a pleasant relief. Damn, how did he end up on the floor next to Daniel?

"They were trying to steal your scribe, lord," Ginny told him. "We decided to stop them."

"Very good, First Prime," Teknet told her. O'Neill snuck a quick peek at Teal'c; he could have sworn that he saw the Jaffa's jaw drop in astonishment and horror at the title that the Goa'uld bestowed upon the girl, although by the time the next set of photons impinged on his eyeballs, Teal'c was back to being imperturbable. But the dark eyes smoldered. Even from a Goa'uld, the title should belong to someone more fitting.

"Did they damage him?" Teknet continued. "He is, after all, my property."

"Yes, lord." Ginny indicated the blood still leaking from Daniel's wrists. The blood had almost dried. "He's a mess."

"Hey!" O'Neill objected. "You did that, you—"

Teknet didn't care. "Hurt them," was his command. Then his eyes lit upon Teal'c, and took in the contoured chest, the bulging biceps. Teknet licked his lips. "Maybe not that one. He looks nice. I think I want to bestow my favors upon him first." He waved his hand grandly. "Proceed."

They did. O'Neill went flying back against the wall, sliding down the cold and damp surface. Carter ducked three blows before another bracelet-wearing teen-ager belted her from behind and effectively took her out of the fight. Mindful of their lord's wish to enslave the Jaffa, two ganged up on Teal'c in order to take him down to his knees. One held him there while the other placed a wire crown around his forehead. Teal'c bellowed and heaved, but couldn't get any purchase.

_Teknet is your god. Teknet is your god_.

Teal'c recognized the instrument of mind control instantly from DanielJackson's description. The clouds being driven into his brain were weak but Teal'c understood that eventually the thoughts would become too powerful to resist. If such a man as DanielJackson could not prevail, then what hope had a simple Jaffa?

"Five minutes up yet?"

It was Major Vincent and his men. There was nothing casual about the way they held their P-90's, nor the look in their eyes.

"Hi, Handsome," Ginny chirped. "Wanna rumble?" She started forward.

Three P-90's snapped into position, aimed at the advancing teens. SG-12 too had been raised on the chivalry of Mother Earth, but they had been schooled—and recently—in the Carter Finishing School of How a Mere Girl Can Whup Your Sorry Ass. And with a pair of glowing eyes behind them, and all four members of SG-1 no longer upright? Well, Mrs. Vincent didn't raise a fool for a son. Maybe a little slow at times, but not a complete idiot, no matter what his colonel occasionally thought…

Which was why the P-90 being jerked from his arms wasn't entirely unexpected. To his credit, Major Vincent landed all of three blows before Ginny flung him into the unforgivingly hard cave wall. His men were not so fortunate. Banner's head connected with the end of his own P-90, and Croft ended up sliding down the boulder in the cave to land in a crumpled heap next to O'Neill and Daniel.

O'Neill looked over at the sergeant. "Come here often?"

Croft gasped for breath. "What have those kids got?"

"Bracelets. Big, honkin' Goa'uld bracelets, charms included." O'Neill heaved himself to his feet. He wasn't really ready for round two, and neither, by the looks of things, were his troops, but he had to set the example.

He swayed on his feet.

Oops. Not the example he wanted to set. O'Neill steadied himself.

Ginny sauntered forward. "You're not bad, but the gray hair has got to go," she told him before slipping almost negligently under his guard with the speed of light and a Goa'uld bracelet, and O'Neill ended up on the ground again, this time at the feet of Teknet himself.

The contest was totally uneven. The SG teams were more numerous, better armed, larger—and losing. O'Neill found himself in the one-handed grip of Teknet himself, the Goa'uld grabbing him around the throat and lifting him off of the ground.

O'Neill would have liked to tell his troops to grab their weapons and blast the crap out of the Goa'uld-enhanced teens. He would have liked to let them know that it was okay to punch each and every one of those kids in the face, despite their youth and gender and general lack of respect for his gray hair, and then tie them up into very tight knots until they could be forcibly escorted to Cheyenne Mountain where those bracelets could be pried off of them.

O'Neill would have liked to tell them all of that, however right now trying to get some air into his starving lungs was a priority. Teknet's latest host was far from the largest man that O'Neill had ever seen, but his hand was doing a fine job of cutting off O'Neill's wind. O'Neill could feel his feet dangling off of the cave floor; damn, how had Teknet become so tall? Damn Goa'uld couldn't be holding him over his snaky head, could he?

Crap. Yes, he could.

Teal'c was done for, that O'Neill could see even beyond the blackness that threatened to overwhelm him from lack of oxygen. That brain-thingy had Teal'c on his knees, rocking back and forth in agony with hands clasped to his head, trying to persuade the Jaffa in ungentle terms to kowtow to the Goa'uld. Teal'c chanted frantically to himself in Goa'uld, trying to fight the invisible foe battering at his mental defenses. Carter and Vincent each had a girl occupied and making heavy weather of it, while Banner and Croft had to make do with trying to keep from getting smashed into paste by Ginny who giggled each time she broke another SG finger. Croft screeched as another digit bent in a way never designed by Mother Nature.

"This little piggy went to market. This little piggy stayed home…"

Humiliating. SG-1 and SG-12 were about to be taken out by a three thousand year old Goa'uld with a serious case of the hots for under-age girls and civilian archeologists. O'Neill welcomed the prospect of being dead, so that he wouldn't have to put up with it. Vision going…blackness…blood rushing in his ears…good-bye, little cabin in Minnesota…

_Gunshot_.

The hand around O'Neill's throat loosened, loosened some more, and O'Neill could feel air sliding back into his tortured lungs. Hard ground under his feet. Knee giving way and threatening to dump him onto the afore-mentioned ground. _What the hell…?_

Vision came back in time to see Teknet waver and slump, toppling the little host to the ground like a puppet whose strings were cut by a giant pair of scissors. The Goa'uld fell forward to reveal a large and smoking hole in the center of his back, courtesy of O'Neill's own P-90, which was also smoking.

Courtesy of Dr. Daniel Jackson, Ph.D.

No Goa'uld's boy toy.


	10. Teknet's Treasure 10

"That's the last of it," Colonel O'Neill said grimly, stowing away a Goa'uld bauble into a hastily dumped out suitcase. Clothing could, and currently was, being shipped home via the postal service to make room for their newly acquired souvenirs. There was no way that O'Neill or anyone else on his team was going to allow all the toys of the late 'god' to head back to StarGate Command in any but their own closely held possession. For one thing, O'Neill didn't think that the contents would pass postal regulations regarding hazardous items. For another, he didn't relish explaining to General Hammond how Teknet's hand jewel got lost in the mail. He heaved, using his shoulder muscles instead of thighs, and jammed the soft-sided pack into the insubstantial trunk of the SUV. His knee still protested the activity, but at least it stayed attached to his body. O'Neill gave thanks for small mercies. It was going some when he could consider himself to be in the best physical condition of the entire teams of both SG-1 and -12.

He suspected that Teal'c felt the opposite of his commander. The Jaffa had several bright and angry red marks across his brow, leftovers from Teknet's little brain-washing toy. Junior must be working over-time to erase the effects, O'Neill thought sourly, because according to the Jaffa the nuclear inferno that had been going on inside Teal'c's head had diminished to a mere kilo of C-4. Teal'c had attempted to help them gather up Teknet's stash but three steps later he sank to the floor of the cave beside Daniel. Major Vincent grunted and stepped around him sympathetically. The major's own physique wasn't much better.

And neither was Daniel. O'Neill had rescued his P-90 from his civilian's hand, fearing that the archeologist would drop it with the gun going off and spraying the cavern with lead. That would be bad. Then they would all look like Daniel, who simply stared off into the distance silently with a very empty expression. Or Teknet, sprawled on his belly with blood leaking out of his lifeless body. They all gave the carcass a healthy distance, just in case the Goa'uld symbiote decided to crawl out and look for another host. This host was finished, but no one wanted to take a chance on being Teknet's next victim.

Carter looked the best of them all but that was due to two reasons: first, she had some new technology to play with and second, Carter always looked damn good no matter whether she was all gussied up for an occasion or hauling herself out of a foxhole with blood splashed all around. Either way, O'Neill liked to look at his second in command, even when she winced when a rib that had turned into two halves grated against itself.

Vincent accepted the last package from Banner, slamming the trunk closed on his own SUV. Two of the girls were already cloistered inside, Croft keeping a bead on them with his P-90, but the fight had gone out of them with the passing of the Goa'uld. Somehow all of the Goa'uld technology that the girls had been using had been tied to the Goa'uld himself and the bracelets had slipped off as the breathing of the host terminated. Carter was convinced that she could discover their secrets, persuade the toys to work again, but O'Neill himself wasn't so certain. System lords tended to be suspicious types, and designing stuff that wouldn't work after your death sounded right up Snakes' Alley. But Carter, despite her aches and pains, helped load up every scrap of off-world technology that they could find.

"C'mon, Daniel," O'Neill said, hooking a hand under his civilian's arm. He left the larger Jaffa for the two sergeants to tackle. This might be the only opportunity for the non-com's to boast that they had man-handled Teal'c, and O'Neill and his aching knee decided to let them make the most of it. "Up and at 'em. Vincent and his men want to apologize to you. Lassiter too, from what I hear."

Daniel looked around in bewilderment, still barely able to believe that it was over, that the _tuvatka're_ was now in Carter's hands being stuffed into a lead-lined box in the SUV. He was barely able to think. He leaned on O'Neill's shoulder, grimacing when Major Vincent stepped in to shore up the other side of him. Knees turned to jelly.

"I think this rescue more than makes up for it," he said, the first words he had uttered since the SG teams had found him, and quietly slipped back into his own patch of darkness.

* * *

Daniel blinked. The blurry face slowly coming into focus a few inches from his nose wasn't gray-haired. Neither did it possess blonde hair, or even bald like a certain well-regarded Jaffa of his acquaintance.

This wasn't right. The normal order of things when Dr. Daniel Jackson found himself waking up in the infirmary was for one or more of his team, usually Jack, to be sitting by his bedside, waiting for him to awaken and enlighten them on some minor detail of whatever mission Jack had just successfully maneuvered an escape from. And the detail would turn out to be a major crux of the whole ordeal instead of a minor point of interest and would result in the mission turning into a major success instead of a blatant failure.

He blinked again. The face resolved into the craggy and dark features of Colonel Lassiter. Again Daniel tried to re-order reality in his mind. Last time he looked, Lassiter had been wheeled off into surgery _again_ and Vincent and his two non-coms were venting their dismay on—hey! Wasn't that the rest of SG-12 behind Lassiter? Daniel tensed.

"Welcome back, Daniel."

Now, that just wasn't fair. That was Jack's voice, coming from the vicinity of Colonel Lassiter. Daniel wished whole-heartedly that the rest of consciousness would damn well hurry up and arrive so that he could figure out what was going on.

Janet Frasier's voice also floated in to join the fray. "He's still a bit loopy from the narcotics that I gave him, colonel. He should be fine in an hour or so."

"Loopy?" O'Neill replied. "Is that a medical term, doc?"

"It is now."

"Are you sure he's gonna be all right? I mean, that Goa'uld had him for almost two days."

"Yes, colonel, he's going to be fine despite the fact that you had him riding in a car for six hours getting back here. In fact, this will be one of his shorter stays in my care, which is surprising the heck out of me and my staff. Take him home tonight and get him out of my hair. I'm tired from all the excitement," Frasier finished, glaring at Lassiter who had the grace to redden. "In fact, I may schedule another surgery just to get some rest."

"No, ma'am," Lassiter said hastily. "Had enough surgeries here to last me a lifetime."

O'Neill subdued a smile. "I guess this means that we are going to listen to Dr. Jackson's boring lectures more carefully next time, aren't we, colonel?"

"Yes, colonel, we are. We are going to listen very closely, and we are going to leave all the ladies strictly alone when the good doctor tells us to."

"And our seconds are going to refrain from rearranging my civilian's office decorations, correct?"

Carter sat up. "When did I do that? Sir?" she hastily tacked on.

"Flowers, Carter. Daisies. They were very out of place in that musty mausoleum Daniel calls an office."

"Not a problem," Daniel mumbled. "Vase is cracked."

"You're so right it's not a problem, because two very contrite sergeants will be looking for a replacement on the next world they visit. Right, gentlemen?"

"Yes, sir."

"I would recommend against that, O'Neill," was Teal'c's contribution. "Knowing DanielJackson's propensity for acquiring items of dubious safety, any artifact that Sergeants Banner and Croft retrieve will likely contain yet another Goa'uld shopping list."

"Or something equally as noxious," Vincent put in. "Don't know about you, sir, but I found it pretty damaging to my ego and other body parts going up against those kids. Colonel Lassiter, I'd like to volunteer for the next mission to a Jaffa-filled planet. Sounds safer."

O'Neill sighed dramatically. "Anywhere where Daniel isn't, is safer, major. That's the one thing I've learned over the past few years: Daniel equals trouble magnet. Doesn't matter if we're off-world or on-." He gestured. "Teknet couldn't leave him alone. Kept coming after him."

"He will now," Daniel grumbled. The image of the fallen host, crumpled and bleeding on the cave floor, was one of the few scenes that he could remember, and with it came a certain sense of satisfaction. "Damn Goa'uld."


End file.
